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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056503">Road to Redemption</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan'>marinstan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Consensual Sex, Domestic Fluff, Friendship Harry/Ron, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Rent-boy Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Switching, Trials</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:07:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>57,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With no wand and no money left, Draco Malfoy sees only one option to survive and protect the one person that still cares for him.<br/>Harry Potter is going through the motions, not quite sure why he's not satisfied with the life he made.<br/>When the two run into each other (again and again) and he learns what his old nemesis, who really doesn't feel like his nemesis at all anymore, does for a living and why, he wants nothing more than to save him.<br/>But Draco is just as stubborn as Harry and it takes the Gryffindor an eternity to convince the Slytherin to give both of them the chance at a new life.<br/>Because even though Harry might have forgiven Draco, the Ex-Death-Eater feels like the road to redemption is a long and bumpy one, and he still has a lot to prove.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>335</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is a rather dark one. Please pay attention to the tags to make sure it's the right one for you!<br/>Among all the angst, there will be a good piece of fluff and smut though (I can never help myself), so don't worry too much.<br/>To everyone who gives this a shot, thank you for reading!!<br/>I hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain is turning the light grey of my trousers into a dark, muddy mockery of the pristine colour. There is nothing overly pristine about the trousers themselves, but the colour was, before the rain interfered. I keep my gaze firmly fixed on the cobble stones that are slippery with wetness. My shoes used to be posh, but now they're worse off than my trousers. Not just from the rain though, but mostly due to the amount of time I've been wearing them for.</p><p>Burying my cold hands in the pockets of my flimsy coat, I risk a glance up. I don't like going to Diagon Alley, no matter the weather, but I resent roaming Knockturn Alley even more. If given the choice, you'll always find me at Diagon.</p><p>The door of the Leaky Cauldron creaks as I open it and slip inside. The warmth envelops me like a blanket and I pull my hands out of my pockets.</p><p>It's still early, not even really tea time yet, so the pub isn't too crowded. There are two men brooding over what looks like largers to me, their hoods pulled down. A girl with long red hair seems to be sleeping with her head on the table, a cup of coffee cooling next to her. I assume she's trying to gather the strength to survive the night.</p><p>I sympathize.</p><p>Tom knows me, even though we never exchange a word that goes beyond my orders. But he has gotten used to having me around, so when I pick a table in the shadiest corner to sit down, he just glances at me, without malice. I don't think Tom cares that much who frequents his pub, as long as they're paying.</p><p>And while I am definitely not the one keeping the Leaky Cauldron thriving, I do pay. Always.</p><p>“What can I get you?“ Tom asks me, waddling over to my table.</p><p>He's grown old. I can almost hear his joints groaning in agony whenever he moves.</p><p>“One hot chocolate, please.“</p><p>“Spiked?“</p><p>I arch a brow with him.</p><p>“Who do you take me for?“</p><p>The owner of the pub that I find myself in at least twice a week gives me a nod and returns to the counter.</p><p>I rub my hands, trying to get the circulation flowing again. It hurts, but I keep going anyway. Getting frostbite won't do.</p><p>The red head across the room flinches, then slowly pushes herself up, elbows on the table. She sighs, brushing her mane out of her face. Pulling the cup of certainly ice cold coffee toward her.</p><p>Today is a Friday. That means the night will be long.</p><p>I hope Tom doesn't take too long with my chocolate. I could really use something warm.</p><p>A hot meal would be nice as well, but that's not really on the cards tonight. Or most nights.</p><p>The door creaks, announcing the arrival of yet another lost soul.</p><p>Since the war, the Leaky has been suffering from a quite bad reputation, because during the Dark Lord's reign, it was often crammed with Death Eaters and those who'd like to join them.</p><p>I know for a fact that there are now no Ex-Death-Eaters or anything of the sort visiting the pub anymore, but the damage seems to have been already done.</p><p>The person now entering the room keeps their head low, as most of us do. The jacket they're wearing is dripping, face shadowed by a huge hood that faintly reminds me of a dementor. I think it's a bloke, judging by the rather broad shoulders and comparably narrow hips.</p><p>On instinct, I lower my head. My platinum blond hair is covering my face. I've let my fringe grow long enough to hide behind it – comes in handy at least once a day.</p><p>The bloke slinks toward me and I really hope he keeps his eyes on the floor. I have a feeling that it's not one of the usual guests, who are all used to me and don't raise a hand anymore.</p><p>His fingers are twitching and he slides into a chair with his back to me. That is a relief, yet with only one table between us, he still feels too close for comfort.</p><p>Tom approaches him and asks for his order. He still hasn't brought me my chocolate.</p><p>“A butterbeer, please,“ the blokes mumbles and my heart skips one painful beat.</p><p>It's impossible. I haven't seen him in ages, not from up close, at least. And what would he want at the Leaky? He doesn't belong here. This is <em>my </em>terrain.</p><p>I can tell that Tom is a little irritated by the voice as well. But he doesn't know it as well as I do and knows better than to pry or ask his customer to show his face. Tom never does, which is one of the reasons why many of us scum like to come here.</p><p>My heart is still fluttering, following an unsteady rhythm, when Tom finally brings me my chocolate.<br/>I just give him a vague smile for a thanks. My hands are cupping the mug, trying to soak up the warmth. The rich, sweet smell almost makes me dizzy.</p><p>The first sip hits me with the force of a bludger. It always does and never seizes to be amazing. My highlight of the week.</p><p>Maybe it's the fortifying chocolate on my tongue, but I find myself eyeing the back of the bloke I believe to be Harry Potter.</p><p>He hasn't taken off his hood, which would be weird around many other places, but it isn't here. The build seems about right. So did the height, but that's not really much to go by.</p><p>I may be mistaken. Three words aren't much and his voice did sound kind of croaky.</p><p>Yet...</p><p>Tom limps back to the man's table and sets a butterbeer down in front of him. The man only nods, doesn't speak again. I can see his hand for a quick moment, but it's too brief to notice details. It's a bloke's hand. That's all I can say about it.</p><p>I lift my mug to my lips, allowing the chocolaty liquid to coat the roof of my mouth. For a moment, my eyes find the girl again. She's staring into her cup, far away.</p><p>The scraping of a chair over the wooden floor has my eyes darting back to the bloke. He gets up and turns around and I'm not quick enough to lower my gaze. It probably wouldn't have saved me anyway. My hair is a giveaway and I imagine that despite the time that has passed, Potter still knows my face quite well.</p><p>We lock eyes. Green in grey and I almost drop my chocolate. The walls of the room close in, then push back and for a moment, the two of us are all alone.</p><p>Potter hasn't changed all that much during the three years I haven't seen him. His eyes are still striking, if covered by glasses.</p><p>After recovering from the obvious shock of seeing me, he approaches my table, almost like if he'd be stalking his pray. Slow, measured steps.</p><p>Too late to run.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?“ he asks me and it's definitely his voice.</p><p>I give him a cold, perfect smile, just on that side of haughty.</p><p>“I could ask you the same thing.“</p><p>He glares at me and pushes past my table. Something slips out of the pocket of his baggy jacket.</p><p>I notice the little sachet hitting the ground before he does.</p><p>“You lost something, Potter.“</p><p>If he's dropping my name, I can drop his.</p><p>Potter's eyes widen and he makes to bend down and get the sachet, but before he can, Tom has appeared next to us.</p><p>“What is that?“ he asks.</p><p>The question is rhetorical. He knows very well what it is. The glittery, greenish powder is unmistakable.</p><p>Potter's mouth opens. I know he can already see the headlines.</p><p>
  <em>The Saviour – a drug addict?</em>
</p><p>“They're mine,“ I say and snatch the sachet, stuffing it into my coat.</p><p>Tom's eyebrows rise. He believes me. Of course he does.</p><p>“Not in my pub,“ he says and I nod.</p><p>“Yes. I know the rules.“</p><p>Tom turns to Potter and his expression becomes sycophantic.</p><p>“A pleasure to have you here, Mr. Potter.“</p><p>Potter's smile is constrained and he doesn't say anything until Tom finally retreats.</p><p>I stare up at the Gryffindor. He drops into the seat in front of me, his eyes narrowed.</p><p>“Why did you do that? You planning to blackmail me?“</p><p>I snort.</p><p>“Oh, yes, certainly. I'll be right with the Prophet, telling them that their beloved hero uses his off time to indulge in Dreamscales. Surely they'll believe me.“</p><p>Potter's posture relaxes a fraction. His expression shifts from anger and worry to something more like irritation.</p><p>“Why, then?“</p><p>I tilt my head and interlock my fingers.</p><p>“See it as me prompting you not to tell anyone where to find me.“</p><p>A slight frown appears on Potter's face as his eyes give me a brief sweep.</p><p>“As if anyone would want to.“</p><p>I arch an eyebrow.</p><p>“Mature as always.“</p><p>I slip one hand into my pocket and close it around the sachet, then try to push it into Potter's hand.</p><p>“I don't want it,“ he says.</p><p>“I'm sure no one's going to check for it when you leave.“</p><p>Potter pulls his hands away.</p><p>“Keep it.“</p><p>My face hardens, but I take the sachet back.</p><p>“I'm not an addict, Potter.“</p><p>I am many things, most of them unflattering, but an addict isn't one of them, so Potter can take his charity elsewhere.</p><p>“Unlike you, as it seems,“ I add, studying his face.</p><p>He turns away. The tiny muscles of his jaw clench.</p><p>“Are you going to keep your mouth shut or will I have to pay you?“</p><p>Icy water is rippling through my body.</p><p>“I don't need your money.“</p><p>Potter stays silent.</p><p>“Weren't you maybe planning on going to the bathroom?“ I drawl, since that's the only reason why he would have had to pass my table in the first place.</p><p>If he uses the loo, I'll have plenty of time to disappear.</p><p>Potter flinches a little.</p><p>“Um, it's not urgent.“</p><p>So he was probably planning to take a hit back there.</p><p>“I see.“</p><p>Potter throws me a look that's almost enough to irritate me, if I wasn't so used to all kinds of creepy looks by now.</p><p>“No, you don't.“</p><p>I drink from my hot chocolate that's more lukewarm now. Potter's fault. Of course he had to show up during one of my scarce moments of peace and quiet.</p><p>“It was supposed to be the last time,“ Potter says.</p><p>I fire a look of mild disbelief his way.</p><p>“That's what they all say.“</p><p>Potter clenches his teeth, but doesn't answer or object.</p><p>Tom is throwing us badly disguised glances from behind the counter.</p><p>“You don't know shit about me, Malfoy.“</p><p>I suppose that's true. We've never been friends, afterall. Stalked each other, surely. Been a little obsessed with each other.</p><p>But I've never been the keeper of his secrets. Nor has he been the keeper of mine.</p><p>Which is perfectly fine, thank you very much. That's still my job.</p><p>“I should go,“ I say and drain my chocolate.</p><p>“Wait.“</p><p>I look at him, apprehensively. Potter doesn't really strike me as the type to start a pointless fight with the ghost of his school nemesis in a public place, but you never know. Men can always surprise you.</p><p>“I have something that belongs to you,“ he says, blinking up at me.</p><p>As I said. They keep on surprising you.</p><p>“What are you talking about?“</p><p>I keep my eyes on the table.</p><p>“Your wand.“</p><p>My wand. The wand he took from me to defeat the Dark Lord. The wand I miss every fucking day.</p><p>“Good for you,“ I manage to say.</p><p>Potter tries to catch my gaze.</p><p>“I want to give it back. It's not right for me to keep it.“</p><p>I look up, finally meet his eyes.</p><p>“Then find someone else to give it to.“</p><p>“But it's yours.“</p><p>His brows draw together in confusion.</p><p>“I'm not allowed to have it, Potter, much less use it. It's an excellent wand. I wouldn't want to waste it on someone who can't do magic.“</p><p>The admission hurts. I can't remember the last time I had to explain that to someone. People usually know and if they don't, they don't care.</p><p>“Not at all?“ Potter asks.</p><p>I squint my eyes, trying to figure out if he's taking the piss. He attended my trial, afterall. He even spoke for me. If not for the rest of my family. Not to say I blame him for that. My father tried to kill him and his friends and my mother was always right there with him.</p><p>I'm honestly surprised he thought I was different.</p><p>“No, not at all.“</p><p>Potter bites his lip. He almost looks like he's about to say he's sorry, but in the end, he doesn't.</p><p>“And you're sure you don't want to have it back anyway?“</p><p>The temptation is pulling at the strings of my heart. I do want it. But I know it would be a mistake. If I had it, I'd use it. And then I'd go to Azkaban and who's going to take my place if I do?</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>I get up and smooth down my clothes. I notice Potter looking, maybe appalled at the ratty coat and the worn trousers. He probably still remembers me like I used to look. Posh and beautiful.</p><p>It hurts to think about it.</p><p>“Good night, Malfoy.“</p><p>I spare him one last glance. I doubt I'll see him again any time soon.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Ron cradles his left arm with the right one, a sour look on his face.</p><p>“I bloody hate that git.“</p><p>I make a humming noise. We all hate Dawson, but mostly because he's better than us. Better at Duelling, better at Transfiguration and lately, he's been giving Ron a run for his money in Tactics and Strategies as well.</p><p>Sometimes I wonder if Ron's dislike for him might also be connected to the fact that him and Dawson both are little brothers used to disappearing in the shadow of their older sibling. Only that Dawson is clearly rising up to surpass his brother, even though Julien will soon join the Aurors as a fullfledged member of the force.</p><p>“He's older,“ I remind my best mate, drawing my wand and running healing spells through my mind.</p><p>Ron shoulders the door to our flat close and heads over to the red sofa we got when we moved in here. I think we liked it because it reminded us of the Gryffindor common room.</p><p>“Only one year. That's nothing.“</p><p>“It's one year more practice,“ I say.</p><p>The tip of my wand is hovering over Ron's arm. I'm a little bit afraid I might fuck it even more. Healing isn't my strong suit.</p><p>“I'd just really like to know where he's been three years ago. I mean, if he's so bloody great at everything, why not use it for something important?“</p><p>“Evanesco,“ I say and Ron flinches.</p><p>“You know he's from Beauxbatons, Ron. He wasn't even in England during the war.“</p><p>“He's not French though,“ Ron grumbles.</p><p>“His mom is.“</p><p>With a sigh, Ron relaxes against the pillows.</p><p>“Yeah, I know. I'm just pissed off that he's so bloody good.“</p><p>He rubs his face and then inspects his arm.</p><p>“Thanks, mate. Should heal well now.“</p><p>I don't say anything. Most of our fellow auror trainees would have probably been able to heal it completely.</p><p>I should be better at this.</p><p>“You're coming with us tonight, right?“</p><p>Ron gives me an almost stern look and I roll my eyes, smiling a little.</p><p>“I promised.“</p><p>“You did. So I'm expecting your arse next to mine. I won't be listening to Dean's never ending stories about the Joke Shop alone.“</p><p>“Noted.“</p><p>I grab a glass of water and wonder if I'll ever be excited again to see my friends.</p><p> </p><p>The pub we're usually meeting at is one of the new ones. It's too popular for my tastes – too many people – but at least the hype is justified. The fries are otherworldy and they have muggle drinks as well as the wizarding ones. Cola with firewhiskey really is something else.</p><p>Since it's a Friday night, it's even more packed than usually. Ron and I bump into three strangers until we finally make it to the table with our hollering mates. Dean and Seamus seem to both be already quite intoxicated, meaning they're even louder than normally, laughing and exchanging smacking kisses from time to time. They're cute, they really are, but they're also... a lot.</p><p>“There you are.“</p><p>Hermione gets up to greet us, hugging me first, before turning to Ron.</p><p>Things are way, way better now than they were just two months ago, but their interactions still feel stilted, a little awkward. But I know I shouldn't complain. They're talking, they're making an effort. It's all I could ask for.</p><p>Neville smiles at us, fingers intertwined with Hannah Abott's. Their relationship is still fairly new, but when Dean tried to encourage us to bet on how long they'd make it, no one wanted to. Because everyone feels like these two are couple goals in every way.</p><p>I take a chair between Ron and Hermione and laugh along with the others, catching up on everyone's lives. Seamus has finally got the job at Fortescue's that he's been chasing for so long and Neville is going to complete his internship very soon, meaning he's about to be a real professor. I try starting a conversation with him about it, but I'm interrupted by Ron and then by Hannah and then Dean is talking again, so I drop it.</p><p>Ginny and Luna arrive during the third round. Probably another late practice. Ginny has a lot of those since she got the spot with the Harpies.</p><p>Both girls smile at me and I return it. It's not awkward anymore, hanging out with them in a group, but I'm not meeting them alone anymore.</p><p>No matter how completely over Ginny I am, it still stings, seeing her so happy with Luna. It probably makes me a terrible person. I know that and I've tried so hard to feel genuine joy when being confronted with their happiness, but all I come up with is a faint feeling of loss and a lot of envy.</p><p>George is trying to catch my eye from across the table, but I avoid it.</p><p>“How's your internship going?“ I ask Hermoine when Dean and Seamus are wrapped up in some minor bickering and Luna starts braiding Ginny's hair.</p><p>“Oh, quite well. I mean, it's exhausting, for sure. They keep me overtime almost every day, but... it's all worth it.“</p><p>Hermione smiles at me, eyes rimmed by faint shadows, but glowing.</p><p>I bite back the petty, mean retort that it should be. It's what cost her her relationship, afterall.</p><p>George is kicking my shin under the table.</p><p>“I need some air,“ I tell Hermione, who nods and bristles, probably not thrilled at the prospect of having to sit next to Ron now.</p><p>That's not really my problem though, so I dash toward the door, hoping to make it before George gets a hold of me.</p><p>I don't.</p><p>“Merlin's balls. I've been trying to talk to you all night.“</p><p>George's face is gaunt and the fingers around my wrist a little too strong for comfort.</p><p>“Not tonight, George,“ I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes.</p><p>“I said...“</p><p>“I know what you said. And I told you no.“</p><p>George bites his lip, bouncing on the balls of his feet.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Harry. Please.“</p><p>“Sorry.“</p><p>I break free of his grip and leave the pub, breathing heavily. The fresh air of the night makes me shiver, but I welcome the feeling. I cast a quick tempus and am surprised to see it's past one in the morning already.</p><p>I'm not drunk though – butterbeer isn't all that strong – meaning I could easily apparate home. But my feet are carrying me down the street, past some drunk fools trying to spell smokey figures into the air, failing time and again.</p><p>I shove my hands into my pockets. The air smells like rain, even though the ground is dry and I take that as a sign.</p><p>Not that I'm superstitious. I guess I'm simply curious.</p><p>The Leaky is still open. I'm honestly not sure if it ever closes. Tom doesn't appear to need much sleep and he definitely does need money.</p><p>A group of blokes a little older than me is huddled around a table that's creaking under the weight of countless empty glasses.</p><p>“Oi, gorgeous,“ one of them shouts in my direction.</p><p>Another one elbows him, hard. He looks at me with a worry that borders on fear.</p><p>“Don't mind him. He's pissed out of his mind.“</p><p>I turn my head away.</p><p>“You're a hero, man,“ another of them says and I drown out their voices, my eyes scanning the tables.</p><p>My heart sinks when I don't spot a head of silver-gilt hair. What was I thinking? That Draco Malfoy lived here and spent all his nights drinking hot chocolate, simply waiting for me to drop by?</p><p>Unlikely.</p><p>I'm ready to cut my losses, maybe drink a quick butterbeer and then return to my friends, when a movement at the door to the loo catches my attention. With few long strides, I've crossed the rooms, throwing the door open.</p><p>“What the fuck do you want?“</p><p>I think Malfoy is going for haughty and pissed, but he doesn't succeed. He sounds scared. Scared and maybe embarrassed.</p><p>“Jesus, what happened to you?“</p><p>Malfoy swallows and lifts his chin. The right half of his face is full of purple bruises. By the way he's distributing his weight, leaning heavily on his left leg, I assume he's limping.</p><p>“Did someone beat you up?“</p><p>“Why would you care? You want to send flowers?“</p><p>He's shivering. The clothes he's wearing are the same ones he wore last week.</p><p>“You should see a healer.“</p><p>“And you should get the fuck out of here.“</p><p>He snivels, but can't stop the blood that starts trickling out of his nose. He turns away and rips some paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, pressing them to his nose.</p><p>“I'm pants at healing spells,“ I say, taking a step toward him.</p><p>He shys away from me, but there's nowhere for him to run. His back is against the wall.</p><p>“But some bruises should be managable.“</p><p>I draw my wand and Malfoy stares at me, his pale eyes huge. Frightened.</p><p>“I won't hurt you,“ I say.</p><p>“Then lower your wand.“</p><p>I murmur some of the spells I didn't learn during training, but from Hermoine. The bruises on Malfoy's face start to fade. The blood stops flowing out of his nose.</p><p>He clenches his teeth and pushes past me, toward the sink.</p><p>I watch him clean up his face. He's still limping, but I don't know the cause, so I won't just start casting a random assortment of various healing spells.</p><p>“You could just say thank you,“ I say.</p><p>Malfoy snorts. It's a dark, bitter sound.</p><p>“Piece of cake if you own a wand.“</p><p>“Who beat you up?“</p><p>Turning of the tab, Malfoy brushes his hair out of his face.</p><p>He lost weight, I think. His cheekbones are too sharp, as is his nose. I don't think his lips have always been this pale.</p><p>“It doesn't matter.“</p><p>Finally, he turns to look at me.</p><p>“What are you doing here, Potter?“</p><p>I shrug, feeling strangley timid.</p><p>“Don't know. I guess I'm kind of hiding from my friends.“</p><p>Malfoy's brows shoot up.</p><p>“And why would that be?“</p><p>I shrug again, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my baggy trousers.</p><p>“No real reason. It's just... Sometimes, it gets too much.“</p><p>Malfoy stares at me and I can't blame him for clearly wondering if I've gone insane.</p><p>“Yeah, okay. Sorry. I'll leave.“</p><p>I turn, but before I reach the door, Malfoy's voice pulls me back.</p><p>“Thank you for speaking for me at the trial.“</p><p>His face is guarded, but not hostile. I think he means it.</p><p>“It was the right thing to do. I told the truth.“</p><p>Malfoy leans against the sink with one hip, gaze on my face.</p><p>“You told one version of the truth. One that made me look better than another would have.“</p><p>I meet his grey eyes with a strange sense of calmness.</p><p>“I didn't think you deserved Azkaban.“</p><p>Malfoy's gaze flickers.</p><p>“Apparently. Which doesn't make much sense, but Gryffindors don't always, do they?“</p><p>“I guess.“</p><p>The whole situation is so surreal. I'm standing in a dirty loo with none other than Draco Malfoy. No wands drawn. No fists raised. We're having something that could pass as a civil conversation.</p><p>The door opens. One of the drunk blokes from earlier stumbles in.</p><p>“Sorry,“ he mumbles. “Didn't mean to disturb.“</p><p>Malfoy and I share a look of horror.</p><p>“Oh, no,“ I try to explain, but the man has locked himself into a stall before I can even begin to explain that it's not like that. Not at all.</p><p>“Maybe we should...“ Malfoy starts.</p><p>“Yeah.“</p><p>We leave the loo and I ask: “Do you want, um... a drink?“</p><p>Malfoy hesitates. Shakes his head.</p><p>“I don't have my wallet with me.“</p><p>“I can pay,“ I say.</p><p>Malfoy's eyes squint as he regards me. The height difference between us has shrunken as I've grown. He's not really taller than me anymore. An inch at most.</p><p>“Why would you want to have a drink with me?“</p><p>“Honestly? I don't really. But I'd like to stay here a little longer, so...“</p><p>“I can leave.“</p><p>“I'm not going to sit here all alone.“</p><p>Malfoy casts me a sharp glance.</p><p>“Then go back to your friends, Potter.“</p><p>Before I can protest, come up with some illogical excuse, Malfoy makes his way through the room, disappearing into the dark night.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Knockturn Alley is already crawling with the creatures of the night by the time I enter it on Tuesday. Week days aren't as busy as the weekend, obviously, but I'd still advise parents to keep their kids away. It's not really a place meant for innocent eyes.</p><p>I wrap my arms around myself and keep my head down. The danger of being recognized here is almost higher than it is at Diagon. For different reasons, but I'm not sure I find them much better.</p><p>The downside of keeping your head down is that you have trouble watching where you go. That must be the reason why I bump into someone in full stride. I'm always eager to get off the street as quickly as possible – hence the fast pace.</p><p>“Pardon,“ I mumble, trying to hurry away, but before I can, a hand closes around my wrist.</p><p>Someone must have recognized me.</p><p>I lift my head, ready to tell him not here, but the words die on my tongue as I meet surprised green eyes.</p><p>“That must be fate.“</p><p>I recover from the shock of seeing Potter here and yank my arm away.</p><p>“Is it though? Because it feels a lot like you're stalking me again.“</p><p>Potter glares at me.</p><p>“I was never stalking you.“</p><p>“You clearly are now. Or are you going to tell me you're hiding from your friends again?“</p><p>Potter blushes and bites his lip. He's always had an expressive mouth.</p><p>“No, um...“</p><p>There is only one reason why he'd be here. It should fill me with satisfaction, a dark kind of joy, but it doesn't.</p><p>“The last time, huh?“</p><p>He closes his eyes for a moment.</p><p>“It's not how you think it is.“</p><p>His hands are fists, clenching and unclenching.</p><p>“Why? Don't you have everything you wanted?“</p><p>I almost flinch at the gaze Potter meets me with. It's intense.</p><p>“I really don't, to be honest. But that's beside the point.“</p><p>Time is ticking and I know I should be on my way – being late won't do, tardiness is one of the sins I don't want to (and am not allowed to) indulge in.</p><p>“You do realize what great of a risk you're taking by buying drugs during rush hour at Knockturn, right?“</p><p>“I pay well.“</p><p>I assume he does. But an article about him in the Prophet will pay well, too.</p><p>“Watch your back,“ I tell him.</p><p>“Worried about me?“</p><p>He crooks something like a tentative smile.</p><p>“No,“ I say cooly. “You simply once again prove to be a fool.“</p><p>With that, I take off, hoping to escape him, but I can't.</p><p>“Hey, wait up.“</p><p>He's catching up to me easily.</p><p>“What, Potter? I'm kind of busy tonight.“</p><p>“Where are you going?“</p><p>I stop and glare at him. We're starting to attract attention and that is the last thing I want. If Potter knew, it would be the last thing he wanted as well.</p><p>It should be already. Even the Boy Who Lived Twice should be scared of getting caught buying Dreamscales.</p><p>“None of your fucking business,“ I sneer.</p><p>My eyes dart over the street – and I freeze as they're drawn to a group of three guys. My stomach churns. I have to get away. Now.</p><p>But when I start walking again, Potter still follows me.</p><p>“Piss off,“ I snap.</p><p>“Only if you agree to hang out with me.“</p><p>Why on earth he'd want to do that is beyond me, but right now, I don't particularly care.</p><p>“Alright. Whatever.“</p><p>Potter seems gobsmacked at my response, but I don't have the time to be glad about it.</p><p>“Will you fuck off now, please?“</p><p>He needs to stop following me and I need to get away from those blokes that will spot me very soon if I don't take off.</p><p>“Okay, yeah. Friday, the Leaky. Around four p.m., maybe?“</p><p>“Brilliant.“</p><p>With that, he finally leaves me be.</p><p> </p><p>“You're late, lovely.“</p><p>Serpent eyes me, disapproval written over his features. It's not his real name, obviously. But it's what he likes to call himself and I'm not in the position to question it.</p><p>“Sorry,“ I say. “It won't happen again.“</p><p>“It better not.“</p><p>He was clearly waiting for me, since he has no business lingering at the back entrance. His unremarkable appearance is deceaving. Behind the limp brown hair, the slouch and the lanky body, hides a cruel, calculating mind. I'd admire him if I didn't hate him so much.</p><p>“Get ready,“ he says, smacking my arse as I make my way up the stairs, the distant leering of hungry men in my ears.</p><p>I pass Aquaria's room. When I'm early, we sometimes get ready together, but today, I don't have time for chitchat and Aquaria looks too caught up in painting her face to pay me much attention. She does blow me a quick kiss though.</p><p>My own room looks just like I have left it last time, except for some of the fresh stains that have been vanished. The houskeeping at the <em>Serpent's Den</em> isn't exactly impeccable, but Serpent does make sure the rooms are as presentable as the average john expects them to be.</p><p>The huge red bed that I find absolutely tasteless is covered in fresh beddings – or at least <em>washed </em>beddings. They never really smell fresh.</p><p>I carefully put my few belongings into the middle drawer of the tiny desk in the room.</p><p>Getting ready doesn't take me very long. I shower at home and usually, Serpent doesn't ask me to put on make up. Sometimes, but not today.</p><p>I'm good with some ripped, tight jeans and an artful tousle of my hair.</p><p>Then I wait, trying to think of nothing as I always do. Practice makes perfect, I truly believe in that statement. But it seems to take an infinite amount of pracitice when it comes to not thinking.</p><p>I always am.</p><p>My fingers are stroking over the covers of the bed, restless. Waiting is the worst of it. Even though I seldomly have to wait for too long.</p><p>The first john of the night enters my room, predatory grin on his face that tells me immediately I won't have to be doing all that much work with this one.</p><p>Some of the first timers are shy. I hate those the most, because I have to lure them and put not only on a show, but a whole act.</p><p>It's easy with this type.</p><p>“Hey, handsome,“ I say, schooling my features into a sexy smirk.</p><p>The man closes the door with force and crosses the room. I think he might have been here before, but I can't quite recall. I try to forget my clients the moment they leave this room.</p><p>“We've got one hour,“ he informs me, grabbing my hips and pulling me close.</p><p>“I intend to make it count.“</p><p> </p><p>He does, wasting no time with foreplay (men rarely do) and proves to have quite impressive stamina. He's had me twice already, yet he's fucking me over my desk like there'd be no tomorrow. I'm glad for his heavy hand in my neck, holding me down. Otherwise I would have had to look at myself in the mirror, and there is nothing I hate more.</p><p>When the bell chimes, letting my john know his time is up, he hasn't finished yet, so he just start grabbing my hips, pounding into me harder until I think I'll have to use dittany after my very first client of the night. Not a good start.</p><p>“Gentlemen, I'm afraid the time is up.“</p><p>Serpent is peaking into the room. The first few times he's done that, I always flinched in shame, but I've grown used to it. What do I care anyway?</p><p>“I'm not done here,“ the john pants, but Serpent won't have it.</p><p>“I fear you are, my friend.“</p><p>Most people know better than to fuck with Serpent, so the john pulls out and I get to straighten my spine, carefully avoiding the mirror.</p><p>“I'll be back,“ he says, slapping my bare arse hard.</p><p>“I can't wait,“ I chirp, making both him and Serpent happy.</p><p>Serpent leads the john away and I stumble to the drawer with the paper towels and the dittany.</p><p>I should have done a more thourough job of preparing myself at home. I've been doing this for three years now, yet I always seem to forget that a fair share of johns don't even bother with a spell. And I don't ask them for it, obviously.</p><p>“You have ten minutes,“ Serpent says, now alone.</p><p>I don't bother answering. My time is too precious to waste it.</p><p>I manage to wipe away most of the cum and saliva fouling my skin and apply a little dittany, before the door opens again.</p><p>The next john is my second most hated kind, right after the timid ones that need me to convince them I'm into it.</p><p>“Malfoy,“ he says and whenever someone does, it takes me a lot of willpower to stay in my whore persona.</p><p>“On your knees,“ he orders.</p><p>This one wants to play rough.</p><p>I sink to my knees and prepare myself for whatever he might have in store for me. The john is angry. Angry and horny. The worst combination.</p><p>“Suck my dick, slut.“</p><p>But I don't actually get to do that much sucking, because he's fucking my face until I'm sure I'm never going to be able to speak again.</p><p>While he ties me up afterward, I start running the ingredients for different potions through my mind. It's the only way I know to stop myself from thinking.</p><p>The john fucks me and spanks me and spits on me, then repeats the whole thing until he finally recieves the screams he apparently gets off on and I can't remember anymore if it was flubberworms or horn snails that are needed for Veritaserum.</p><p>He leaves when the bell chimes.</p><p>“Until next time,“ he growls and I don't answer, but that is fine.</p><p>He doesn't want me to.</p><p> </p><p>“Darling?“</p><p>I look up, pausing the little battle I'm fighting with my clothes. It's always difficult to button up my shirt after a whole night of whoring.</p><p>Aquaria is leaning against the doorframe. She must have already cleaned up, because her hair is falling in a silky, dark curtain to her waist and her face is free of make up and spunk. Right after a busy night is the only time she lets people see her bare-faced. I know it makes her uncomfortable, because she feels more masculine that way.</p><p>“Do you know when Serpent is going to get new dittany?“ I ask her, finally managing to close the last button.</p><p>“Probably in a few days.“<br/>She eyes me.</p><p>Aquaria is the reason why I don't have to work full nights all week. Every man, no matter what he lables himself as, wants her.</p><p>I understand. She's gorgeous. And while I want to be mad that I'm making less money that way, I can't actually be. Having those two nights a week that I'm only here for four hours is the best thing that could have happened to me.</p><p>Besides, Serpent doesn't actually pay us according to how much we make for him. Aquaria doesn't get much more than I do, because he keeps most for himself.</p><p>“Rough night?“ she asks.</p><p>I shrug. The bitter tang of the potion I always take after a night of shagging is fouling my mouth. It's less safe than protection spells would be, but johns don't always bother with those, so the potion it is.</p><p>“It was fine. The second one was the worst. After that, all standard.“</p><p>I throw the stained jeans I didn't wear for too long into the laundry sack.</p><p>“No first timers, which is always a plus.“</p><p>I give her a faint smile. We don't spill our guts in front of each other, but we also don't feel the need to pretend like we wouldn't hate it here.</p><p>“What about you?“</p><p>She gives me one of her half shrugs, resting one hand on her taut belly.</p><p>“It wasn't too bad. But... he didn't come.“</p><p>It's good that she casts her eyes down as she says it, so she doesn't have to see my expression.</p><p>Since a couple weeks now, Aquaria has a little crush on one of her clients. I've told her already that it's the dumbest thing to do, but she can't help herself.</p><p>I've never seen him – he only comes to her, but I can't imagine that any john would ever want anything more than a quick fuck. Or maybe not always a quick one, but they're certainly not here because they're looking for someone to take out.</p><p>“You're too pretty for him anyway,“ I say and grab my keys and wallet out of the drawer.</p><p>Aquaria gives me a faint smile.</p><p>“Are you leaving?“</p><p>I nod.</p><p>Unlike me, she lives here. I couldn't imagine a worse fate. Working here is bad enough. But she hardly ever leaves this building.</p><p>“I'll be back tomorrow,“ I say, even though it's technically today, but we count the days a little differently than most people, since we're working the nights.</p><p>“Take care, darling.“</p><p>I kiss her cheek, then make my way down the stairs and out of the oppressive silence that has fallen over the <em>Serpent's Den</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mate, what's up with you?“</p><p>I blink, noticing that my cup is overflowing. I hastily put the can down and flick my wand, vanishing the spilled coffee.</p><p>“Nothing. Just distracted.“</p><p>I avoid Ron's eyes. He knows it's more than that. I'm honestly surprised for how long I managed to get away with it, since I live with Ron. And I'm not the most subtle person in the world, or so I've been told.</p><p>But I guess Ron has his own problems.</p><p>I lift the cup and burn my tongue, quickly putting it down again. Rain is drumming against the windows of our flat. This October is the worst. I can't remember the last time I was able to go outside without once again being confronted with the fact that my Impervius is shit.</p><p>“If you want to talk about something...“</p><p>I cast him a quick smile.</p><p>“I know. Thanks.“</p><p>Ron flips through a Quidditch magazine and I try my coffee again. Still hot, but my mouth is rather numb already, so it's fine.</p><p>“You coming with me tonight?“</p><p>“Where to?“</p><p>“I'm going out with George and Lee.“</p><p>“Ah, right. No, sorry, I... kind of have to study.“</p><p>“It's a Friday night, Harry. No one studies.“</p><p>“Well, I am. If I don't, I'll fail the next TS exam.“</p><p>I put my cup on the counter and once more ignore the dishes in the sink. It irks me that they're there – Petunia successfully drilled me to feel anxious whenever I leave a dirty plate. But those aren't mine, they're Ron's. And I'm not going to clean up after him just because Mrs. Weasley never taught him how to do it himself.</p><p>“I'll help you,“ Ron offers.</p><p>“Thanks, but I really need to get on it tonight.“</p><p>Ron relents.</p><p>“Alright, mate. But... you can always join us if you change your mind.“</p><p>I nod and give him a more genuine smile. Maybe I'd have come with him if George wasn't there. And if I didn't have plans already, that is.</p><p>I head out when Ron is kipping on our sofa, socked feet propped up on the table and chin on his chest. Auror training awakens the need for midday naps in everyone.</p><p>I slink out of the door and apparate to Diagon.</p><p>The Leaky is rather empty. Most people are still at work and the pub isn't really frequented by many for a family afternoon tea. Malfoy isn't there yet and as I sit down on one of the tables in the back, I finally ask myself what the hell I'm doing here. There is literally no reason for me to hang out with Draco Malfoy, of all people. None at all.</p><p>So why did I ask him to?</p><p>It might be my hero complex coming through again. Malfoy really looked like shit the last time I saw him. Or maybe it's just curiosity. I haven't heard from him since the war, not anything, and if I'm honest, I've been wondering for quite some time what happened to him.</p><p>I fidget, pulling the sleeves of my jumper over my hands, trying to avoid the other customer's gazes while simultaniously looking for Malfoy.</p><p>He's late. He probably won't show at all.</p><p>I mean, why would he?</p><p>Just when I think it's about time to cut my losses, the door opens. Malfoy spots me immediately and approaches the table with slow steps.</p><p>“Hey,“ I say, standing up and instantly feeling awkward for doing so.</p><p>It's not like we're going to hug or even shake hands. Malfoy gazes at me out of his cool eyes. Tired eyes.</p><p>“Sit down, Potter. Or do you want the whole pub staring at us?“</p><p>I do as he says, trying to stop playing with my jumper, but finding myself unable to.</p><p>“You came,“ I say dumbly.</p><p>“Stating the obvious usually isn't a sign of great intelligence, Potter.“</p><p>“Don't worry, I'm not claiming to be that smart.“</p><p>Malfoy rolls his eyes. His posture is flawless as always, but today, it seems like it takes him some effort to keep it that way.</p><p>“Why am I here?“ he asks.</p><p>I force myself to hold his gaze.</p><p>“Honestly? I don't really know.“</p><p>He doesn't answer, but simply raises one arched eyebrow.</p><p>“I guess I was curious. About you. What happened to you after the trials and everything.“</p><p>His face closes off so quickly that I flinch.</p><p>“If you're here to interrogate me about my life, I'm leaving right now.“</p><p>I can tell he is dead serious and my heart starts pounding.</p><p>“Okay, okay. What do you want to talk about, then?“</p><p>Malfoy's eyes narrow at me.</p><p>“You were the one insisting to meet me here.“</p><p>“I know. I just -“</p><p>I stare at him. I can't explain it. I don't know what I've wanted from this.</p><p>“You could tell me how you became an addict, if you can't think of any other topic,“ Malfoy prompts.</p><p>I rub my face.</p><p>“Maybe this was a stupid idea.“</p><p>“It certainly was. We hate each other, remember?“</p><p>I frown, leaning on my elbows.</p><p>“Do you hate me?“</p><p>Malfoy's gaze flickers away.</p><p>“Hate might be a quite strong word.“</p><p>“I don't hate you,“ I say.</p><p>Maybe it's stupid to be that honest with Malfoy, but I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired.</p><p>“I've never really hated you, but now, all I want is to... move on. I don't want to fight anymore.“</p><p>Malfoy meets my gaze. I think he swallows.</p><p>“Do you need an apology from me? Is that why you're here?“</p><p>I hesitate.</p><p>“No, I don't need one. But if you wanted to give me one, I'd take it.“</p><p>For a long while, only the clattering of glasses at the counter disturbs the silence between us.</p><p>“I am sorry,“ Malfoy finally says. “For a lot things. My attitude toward you, my blindness. All the times I hurt you and your friends.“</p><p>He looks away, into the distance. His right hand slowly runs over his left forearm.</p><p>“What goes around comes around, I guess,“ he says.</p><p>“Thanks for apologizing,“ I say.</p><p>It takes me a deep breath before I continue.</p><p>“And I owe you one too. For that time in the bathroom.“</p><p>Malfoy's gaze darts to me, then away again.</p><p>“I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I'm really sorry.“</p><p>Malfoy gives me a half shrug, before finally looking at me again.</p><p>“I've done worse to you, over the years.“</p><p>I bite my tongue not to say that he wanted to cast a cruciatus against me. Apparently, my face is and open book again, because Malfoy goes on.</p><p>“And it's quite understandable that you freaked out when I cast that curse. It wouldn't have worked, but you couldn't know that.“</p><p>“It wouldn't have?“</p><p>Malfoy lets out a tiny huff of something that's not quite laughter.</p><p>“No, it wouldn't have.“</p><p>He looks up again.</p><p>“Also, you saved my life. I didn't forget that.“</p><p>For a moment, I think we're both back in the Room of Requirement, the Fiendfyre roaring, slowly scorching our skin. Malfoy's arms locked around my waist, so afraid I might let him fall.</p><p>I break eye contact first.</p><p>“You didn't sell me out at the Manor.“</p><p>This time, Malfoy does let out a tiny laugh.</p><p>“I don't think that's comparable, but thanks for noticing.“</p><p>I study his worn out face.</p><p>“If you'd have had the choice – would you have taken the mark?“</p><p>Malfoy is very still as he looks at me.</p><p>“There is always as choice, Potter.“</p><p>“Well, but people don't usually choose their own death.“</p><p>“You did.“</p><p>We're quiet.</p><p>“I guess. But I assume it wasn't only your life on the line.“</p><p>Malfoy looks into nothingness.</p><p>“No. But that doesn't excuse what I did.“</p><p>He looks at his hands – elegant and long-fingered. </p><p>“I realized too little too late. Maybe if I'd have been quicker and not so unwilling to change, things would have been different.“</p><p>I don't really know what to say to that. Except that, whatever he thinks, I know now that Malfoy has changed, in the end. The Malfoy I remember from school would have never talked like this.</p><p>“Do you want a coffee?“ I ask him.</p><p>He blinks at me.</p><p>“Sure.“</p><p>“Or hot chocolate?“</p><p>A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“I'll take that.“</p><p>We order and I'm aware of the risk we're taking right now. Anyone could see us. It could be all over the papers tomorrow.</p><p>Strangely, it doesn't worry me that much.</p><p>“Well, Potter. Since we've gotten the past out of the way now, would you like to tell me how it comes that the Chosen One is taking Dreamscales?“</p><p>I stir my coffee.</p><p>“I wouldn't.“</p><p>Malfoy's eyes won't leave my face.</p><p>“I hope you realize I'm in no position to judge you.“</p><p>My gaze darts up.</p><p>“So you're an addict?“</p><p>“I didn't say that. And I'm not. But, still. I'm Draco Malfoy.“</p><p>His smile is cynical. I don't respond to that.</p><p>“You should be careful,“ he says. “I know it doesn't seem like it in the beginning, but Dreamscales are killing you slowly. You need to stop taking them before they make you insane.“</p><p>I grind my teeth.</p><p>“I know that.“</p><p>“Good. Then I hope you'll take your own advise.“</p><p>I have to bite my tongue, hard, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.</p><p>“So, Malfoy. What do you do?“</p><p>The latté I'm having isn't the best I ever had, but I still relish the warmth in my mouth.</p><p>“You're not answering any personal questions, so neither am I.“</p><p>“Oh, I'll answer personal question. You want to know what I do?“</p><p>Malfoy snorts.</p><p>“Everyone knows what you do. You'll be the next Headauror, obviously.“</p><p>I flinch.</p><p>“Yeah, I don't know about that. I'm actually... not a very good Auror.“</p><p>I don't miss the quickly hidden surprise crossing Malfoy's features.</p><p>“And what makes you say that?“</p><p>“It's true.“</p><p>I shrug. Malfoy stirs his chocolate, talking to the spoon instead of to me.</p><p>“I always thought it weird that you would want to become an Auror.“</p><p>I stare at him.</p><p>“What?“</p><p>He shrugs elegantly and gives me one of his piercing looks.</p><p>“You've spent your whole childhood and adolescence chasing the bad guys. I'd imagine you'd like to do something else for a change.“</p><p>No one has ever said anything like that to me. Luna is the only person who ever questioned my choice in career at all, and she didn't do it like that. It went more in the direction of musing if the colour of my aura really matched an Auror and that was that.</p><p>“Yeah, I...“</p><p>My hands close around the cup in front of me. Malfoy watches me with intelligent eyes, before dropping his gaze. A strand of blond hair falls into his face, covering his eyes.</p><p>“Sometimes I think I don't want to be an Auror,“ I say, pulling the sleeves of my jumper over my fingers.</p><p>“Then why are you?“</p><p>Malfoy drains his mug. A little bit of chocolate is now smeared over his upper lip. He catches my eyes and flashes me an annoyed look, wiping the smudges away.</p><p>“I don't know. It's just... the right thing to do.“</p><p>One dark blond brow shoots up.</p><p>“You've got the luxury to actually choose what you do. I'd not waste it.“</p><p>“It's not that simple,“ I say, annoyance flaring inside me.</p><p>“It's not that complicated, either.“</p><p>Rather abruptly, Malfoy gets up.</p><p>“I have to go.“</p><p>More than a little bemused at this sudden departure, I gape at him.</p><p>“Um – yeah?“</p><p>“Yes. Have a good night, Potter.“</p><p>He's turning, shabby coat billowing after him.</p><p>“Wait! Can I see you again?“</p><p>Malfoy doesn't turn around.</p><p>“I'm afraid not.“</p><p>With that, he leaves me alone at the table, remains of coffee slowly dissolving in my cup.</p><hr/><p>“Can't you give me one fucking minute?“</p><p>My hands are shaking and I feel out of it. The fouled covers under my fingers feel painfully rough. I'm not sure if it's my mind or the room spinning around me.</p><p>“Time is money, my lovely.“</p><p>I just spent an hour begging for more while a fat john buggered me senseless, my left arm weirdly twisted so he could look at the Dark Mark while slamming into me.</p><p>I don't feel ready for the next client. </p><p>But that doesn't matter, so I try wiping the already drying come from my thighs and paste on something like a smile. Even though I doubt the next john will need me to be all that sweet – usually, the ones that prefer me filthy don't need much act. They just want to take. Break.</p><p>My door opens and my heart stops. The smile on my face wavers and fades.</p><p>It's not the first time someone I know is coming through this dirty, wooden door. Several Aurors I've seen at my trial had me. A few of the men my father used to torture and belittle took a lot of satisfaction of finally getting back at him by defiling his son. I even once had to spread myself for Mr.Crabbe, who blames me for his son's death. That has been the worst so far.</p><p>But never has a Weasley crossed this doorstep. Until now.</p><p>“Fuck me sideways. It's really you.“</p><p>George Weasley staggers into the room. He's clearly high on something, maybe also wasted out of his mind. I slowly get up as he elbows the door shut.</p><p>“I didn't believe them when they told me they had you. How come the whole Wizarding World doesn't know?“</p><p>They don't because I highly value my privacy and Serpent knows it's better for business if I'm not taken away by a mob of angry Aurors. Aurors and Weasleys and Grangers and whoever the fuck else my family hurt.</p><p>“What do you need?“ I ask, dragging up the walls of my whore persona again. </p><p>It's the only way to survive this.</p><p>“To make you pay,“ George says, lips quivering.</p><p>I nod slowly. Of course he does. My question was how exactly, but I'm sure he'll get to it soon enough.</p><p>“I want to hurt you.“</p><p>“You can.“</p><p>George's face is contorted in pain. So much pain, it takes my breath away. </p><p>He'll make me feel that pain in a moment. Or at least try to. </p><p>The first punch is clumsy. The second one hits harder. When I'm on my knees, I understand that George isn't intersted in fucking me. He just wants to make me hurt, doesn't need the sexual humiliation.</p><p>It relieves me. This way, it's easier to take. It is because I understand George's pain. I understand his need to make it stop and I understand that I'm the best candidate to blame. I'm a vessel for him and that is fine. He's not a cruel man, not inherently. He's hurting.</p><p>The onslaught takes long enough for me to wish I was dead and idly wonder how I'm supposed to keep working tonight, but it still ends sooner than I anticipated.<br/>It ends with George collapsing on the room's dirty, fouled carpet, sobbing.</p><p>I wait a minute or two until I can be sure he's done with me for now. Then I slowly unclench my limbs. My whole body hurts and I assume my face has taken a blow or two as well.</p><p>I look at the mess of a man curled on the carpet, sobbing and crying, and wonder what I am to do now. George Weasley can't go around telling everyone I'm here. I don't want to imagine what they'd do if the whole Weasley clan knew about me.</p><p>My stomach drops several floors as I realize what that would entail. It would mean Potter knew.</p><p>My skin is crawling and I feel like throwing up, but suppress the urge.</p><p>“How did you find me?“ I ask.</p><p>The Gryffindor's head is lolling from one side to the other, his hands shaking.</p><p>„Luck,“ he murmurs.</p><p>„I don't believe you.“</p><p>Even if Weasley would actually frequent this rundown whorehouse in Knockturn Alley for some cheap shags, he'd only get to me if he was looking for my type. A blond, slender boy. I'm never on stage or at the bar, parading around and trying to pull johns. Serpent only sends them up to me when they ask for a hooker like me. And he only chooses the ones he deems harmless, even if they do recognize me. The ones who know they have more to lose than gain if they took my story to the press.</p><p>„Tell me how you found me,“ I say.</p><p>Bloodshut eyes slide over me, then away again.</p><p>„Already did.“</p><p>Weasley is sweating, arms tucked close to his body. Suddenly, I'm afraid he might die on me. I'm not sure if Serpent would allow me to survive after having a client kick the bucket in my room.</p><p>“George?“</p><p>I lightly shake his shoulder.</p><p>“Touch me and I'll slit your bloody throat, Malfoy.“</p><p>I pull my hand away, not overly concerned. In his condition right now, George isn't slitting anyone's throat.</p><p>Cautiously, I peer at his face. His parted lips are slightly green.</p><p>My breath catches.</p><p>What the fuck is up with all of those honourable Gryffindors?</p><p>Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it. This is my way out. My chance to keep him quiet.</p><p>“Dreamscales, am I right?“</p><p>George glances at me out of one bloodshut eye.</p><p>“Fuck off.“</p><p>I sit back on my heels, then drop to the side because it hurts too much. Taking a deep breath that tears at my ribs, I take another long look at him.</p><p>The withdrawals must be hell. It looks like he'd approach the worst of it. If it's up to me, he won't have to go through it.</p><p>“I can get you more. Right now.“</p><p>George stares at me. Panting. Stomach cramps are a symptome of withdrawal, which is probably why he has his legs drawn up.</p><p>“You're lying.“</p><p>“No, I'm not. I'll get you Dreamscales, if you promise not to tell anyone I'm here. What I do. That you ever saw me. Nothing.“</p><p>“I'm not making deals with Death Eaters.“</p><p>“Then I'm not getting you Dreamscales.“</p><p>He stares at me for a long time, but I'm patient. I've learned to be.</p><p>“Fuck you.“</p><p>“Is that a yes?“</p><p>“Yeah, for Merlin's balls. Just... give it to me.“</p><p>The desperation in his face is too deep to disguise.</p><p>I get up, trying to ignore my screaming body, and take the sachet of greenish powder out of my drawer. The sachet Potter gave me, probably because he wanted to remove the temptation of having it on him.</p><p>I hold up the sachet and George is crawling over to me. The air in the room shifts. Despite my nakedness and bruises, I'm the one standing on me feet, while George is on his knees. A rush of power surges through me, but I suppress it.</p><p>“Promise.“</p><p>“Fuck, yes. I promise. Just -“</p><p>He scrambles up, falls down again. I drop the powder into his hands.</p><p>He is too far gone to care that I'm watching him and makes quick work of it, snorting two lines, before carefully putting the rest away.</p><p>The dirty carpet has him back – he's sinking down on his back, staring at the ceiling. His features relax and his lashes are fluttering. I kneel next to him and bring my mouth close to his ear. The fact that this behaviour doesn't result in my skull being cracked shows what condition George is in.</p><p>“Remember, if you tell anyone, you'll have to tell them how you know. And I'll tell them what exactly happened during our encounter.“</p><p>I wait a moment, hovering next to his ear. He's staring at the ceiling still, but I doubt he really sees it.</p><p>“Wouldn't want dear Molly to know her son is an addict, would we?“</p><p> </p><p>I hardly overhear any of the talk Serpent gives George about how his property is not to be damaged in such a rough way.</p><p>“My lovelies can't have bruises on their face, you certainly understand,“ I hear him croon.</p><p>I doubt George will remember much of that speech, drugged out as he is. I get twenty minutes to tend to my injuries before he'll send the next john in. I try not to worry about if Serpent will punish me for this. If he will, there is nothing I can do about it anyway, so why worry?</p><p> </p><p>The string of johns on a Saturday night seems to never end and I stop counting after the fifth one or so. The firewhiskey running through my veins keeps me going as my knees are shoved up to my ears for the thousandth time that night, my head held down, my arse spanked.</p><p>When the last one comes in (the last one for tonight – the prelude to many, many more long nights to come), I can't find the strength to get up from my bed anymore. I'm drunker than I should be – throwing up over my john once resulted in bruises so bad I couldn't work for two days – but I can't bring myself to care.<br/>I get lucky, because this john doesn't need me to do much.</p><p>“Filthy slut,“ he says, but there is not much malice in his tone. He's not here because he needs to punish a Death Eater. He just wants to fuck the body of some pretty boy.</p><p>I smile up at him and spread my thighs, but he grabs my hips and flips me over first, pushing himself between my legs, my lower back aching faintly.<br/>My arse is grabbed and then I'm impaled once again on a cock pounding into me. </p><p>I must have passed out halfway through it, because the next thing I know is that the john rolls off of me and cum is trickling down my thighs. I manage to turn around, hoping he won't be unhappy because of my temporary unconsciousness. But he doesn't seem put out.</p><p>“Thanks for the fuck,“ he says and pats my thigh before pushing up and off the bed.</p><p>“My pleasure,“ I plan to lilt, but it's more like a croak.</p><p>The john chuckles and tosses a sickle on my bed. He leaves, pulling the door shut behind him and I fall asleep the minute he leaves, curled up into a ball, shutting off my brain and body alike.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“Where did you get it?“</p><p>I dash after George as he strides into the back of the Joke Shop, a package in his arm that's smoking faintly. </p><p>“Relax, Harry. It's not your problem anymore.“</p><p>The shop will open in ten minutes and swamped with customers fawning over love potions and Pygmy Puffs.</p><p>“I'm fucking serious, George. Just tell me where you got it.“</p><p>The look George gives me borders on icy. But then it softens. He puts a hand on my shoulders and squeezes.</p><p>“Me too. You deal with your problems, I'll deal with mine. Alright?“</p><p>It's hard not to let out a frustrated groan, but I know I won't get anywhere with him. Not like this.</p><p>It's been three days now since I first noticed that George was high again. But no matter how much I pried, he wouldn't tell me where he got it from.</p><p>“I thought we said it's over.“</p><p>George shrugs and opens the package, taking out bracelets with smoking gem stones.</p><p>“As I recall it, only you did.“</p><p>I close my eyes and rub my temples.</p><p>“Please, George.“</p><p>The lonely twin just shakes his head.</p><p>“You don't get to decide.“</p><p>My jaw clenches and I turn around, leaving the shop before I'm cornered by another pack of crazy fangirls.</p><p> </p><p>Diagon Alley is tinged in sunlight – a rare occasion. Golden October really makes us wait this year. It'll be November soon and all we get is rain and darkness.</p><p>“Harry!“</p><p>I blink and look up. Wearing a hood constantly has the unwelcome side effect that I'm often oblivious to my surroundings. I guess I should really start working on my Glamour, but somehow, I can't make myself not resent it. It just takes so much concentration to keep up. And sometimes, people see through it. My hair and my scar both refuse to coorparate whenever I try to change them magically.</p><p>Hermione is waving at me, smiling. Her hair is almost as bushy as it used to be during our Hogwarts times, meaning she's been busy lately. I'm not surprised. This internship keeps her on her toes.</p><p>“Hey, 'Mione,“ I say, walking up to her.</p><p>She hugs me.</p><p>Her gaze flickers to the Joke Shop, proud and almost majestic in the sun, and she sighs.</p><p>“Still no luck with George?“</p><p>Hermione is the only one who knows. About George and about me. Making her promise not to tell Ron – he'd flip, I know that – was one of the hardest things for her when the two of them were still together.</p><p>“Not really. And, honestly, I'm not in the mood to talk about it right now.“</p><p>She nods.</p><p>“Care to join me for a stroll through Flourish and Blotts?“</p><p>“Sure thing.“</p><p>I tag along as she picks out some new books on Charms and Magical Law, while I run my fingers over the covers and try not to think about George, only to end up thinking about him anyway.</p><p>The only thing that finally succeeds to distract me is thinking about Malfoy instead.</p><p>I still don't understand why he took off so suddenly that day, why he didn't want to see me again. Maybe that's weird of me – we've been rivals for so long, we've resented each other. Why would we try being friends now?</p><p>But something about the way we talked makes me want to get to know him better. Malfoy is different – different than the person he used to be and different from all of my friends. He has a unique worldview and perspective and for some reason that I really can't explain, I feel like I need that.</p><p>“Everything okay?“</p><p>Hermione smiles at me over stacks of books on Magical Gardening.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Just a little... you know. Pensive, I guess.“</p><p>She nods and opens a book about plants. I have no idea why she'd want to read that. Hermione and plants don't exactly share a loving relationship. In fact, they don't really have a relationship at all.</p><p>“How's training?“ she asks me, eyes still on her book.</p><p>“It's moving along. Robards says he'll let us out in the field soon.“</p><p>Hermione looks up.</p><p>“That's exciting.“</p><p>“Yeah.“</p><p>It really is. I hope that, maybe, finally being able to do something might reignite the spark I used to harbour for a career as an Auror.</p><p>I look out of the shop window – and freeze as I spot George, hurrying down the alley, appearing rushed, almost haunted.</p><p>“Um, I'll be right back,“ I say, already making for the door.</p><p>“Harry?“</p><p>“See you in a sec!“</p><p>I dash through the door, pulling out my Invisibilty Cloak and throw it over myself. I always have it with me, in case some fans are getting a little bit too touchy.<br/>I make an effort to be quiet as I follow George, but I honestly doubt that he'd hear me even if I was stomping like an elephant.</p><p>When he slips into Knockturn Alley, my heartbeat kicks. I'm on the right track.</p><p>The narrow alley is rather empty, only few hunched figures scurrying from one shop to another. Since the war, Knockturn has fallen from grace even more. Most pureblood families avoid it nowadays, desperate not to be linked to the Dark Lord, which means Knockturn is now the place beggars, junkies and prostitutes roam.</p><p>I know which of those George is.</p><p>His steps slow as he passes Borgin and Burk's, heading farther down.</p><p>I'm rarely here. Usually I stick to Diagon, or even to Muggle London. I wouldn't know what to do in a place like this that reeks of filth and failure.</p><p>George approaches a rundown building made of dark brick stones. <em>The Serpent's Den</em>, the sign says. I have a feeling what it might be, but I can't be sure. George knocks on the door and after a few minutes, a tall, thin man appears. He's slouching badly and his nondescript hair seems in need of a wash. I can't hear what George is saying, so I step closer.</p><p>“He doesn't work during the day, baby. But I could hook you up with our newest catch, sweet Brighton. I'm sure you'd love him. Or what about your usual? She'll be available in only three hours.“</p><p>My jaw drops. George is looking for a prostitute? A male one on top of that?</p><p>And he has a <em>usual</em>. </p><p>It's not like I'd care in any way, but all Weasleys are pretty open regarding their sexuality. I came out to them as probably-bi-but-I-don't-like-labels two years ago and that's when I learned that Charlie is pan and, of course, Ginny prefers girls.</p><p>What I'm trying to say, is – I can't imagine why George wouldn't have told us if he was into guys. There are surely always reasons not to, I assume, but it just seems unlikely.</p><p>Which is why I bet he's not here to buy sex. I think he wants to buy something else.</p><p>My suspicion hardens when George says: “No, it has to be him. When can I see him again?“</p><p>The slouching man raises his brows.</p><p>“You're not the only one seeking his company, sweetie.“</p><p>“I pay whatever you want.“</p><p>The desperation in George's voice is evident and my heart makes a painful jolt. </p><p>“Is that so?“</p><p>George nods, wrapping his arms around himself.</p><p>“Well, if it's that urgent, I'd say come back tonight. Be here around midnight, but you'll probably have to wait for a little longer than that.“</p><p>“Alright. I'll be there.“</p><p>The man grins.</p><p>“Oh, I know you will, sweetie.“</p><p> </p><p>“What's up with you today?“ Ron asks, looking up from his notes.</p><p>Our whole flat is littered with parchment and books, carelessly left on every available surface. We'll start our field training tomorrow and Robards made it abundantly clear that he expects us to be in top form.</p><p>“Nothing. Just a little stressed about... all this.“</p><p>I make an all-encompassing gesture with my hand.</p><p>“I feel that.“</p><p>Ron sighs and rubs his face. There is a little bit of stubble coming in. He always forgets to shave when he's stressed out.</p><p>“Did you talk to Hermione lately?“</p><p>“Hm?“</p><p>I blink, interrupted in musing about my plan for tonight. I'm still not sure if I should tell Ron that I'll be out past midnight on a weeknight or if it might be smarter not to. It probably comes down to the question if I'll be able to sneak out of the flat without him noticing or not.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I ran into her today, actually.“</p><p>“That's nice.“</p><p>Ron's eyes are glued to his notes and my heart is sinking.</p><p>“Did she... maybe mention me? Or something.“</p><p>I bite my lip and flip through an example file of a fictional criminal that I should know by heart by now.</p><p>“Not really.“</p><p>“Oh.“</p><p>Ron leans forward on his elbows.</p><p>“Do you think she misses me at all?“</p><p>It's always like this with Ron. He starts out trying to be subtle but quickly gives it up along the way. I usually prefer the direct approach, but right now, it means I'll have to be blunt as well. And I don't like being blunt with Ron about this.</p><p>“I think she misses being friends with you,“ I say.</p><p>Ron's face falls a little.</p><p>“That's all?“</p><p>I meet his eyes and put my book down.</p><p>“Yeah, mate. I'm sorry, but I really think that's all.“</p><p>Ron stares into nothingness, the notes slowly sliding off his lap without him noticing.</p><p>“Look, Ron. I'm sure you'll find someone that matches better with you.“</p><p>“Sure, yeah. I just...“</p><p>He looks at his hands.</p><p>“I just really thought she'd be it, you know? It's always been her. All this time. All my life, really.“</p><p>I wish I could tell him he's being dramatic, that he's exaggerating, but it's true.</p><p>“I know, man. I know. But... she made her decision. And it'll stop hurting eventually.“</p><p>“Does it?“</p><p>Ron regards me with his blue eyes, fine lines around his downturned mouth.</p><p>“Don't you miss my sister?“</p><p>I sigh deeply.</p><p>“Not anymore. She didn't love me like that. Sooner or later, you'll have to accept that.“</p><p>I don't say that I don't think I ever loved Ginny quite the way Ron loves Hermione. It wouldn't do any good.</p><p>“Yeah. You're right. Fuck it.“</p><p>He smiles with half of his mouth and gets up, grabbing both our empty cups.</p><p>“Refill?“</p><p>I manage to sneak out of the flat without waking Ron – or at least I dearly hope I do.</p><p>The night is cold. Threads of rain seem to connect the sky with the earth and only my Impervius Charm allows me to see anything. I vividly remember what it was like when my glasses used to get wet and the world turned into a kaleidoscope of blurred colours.</p><p>I've never been to Knockturn Alley that late at night and I already know that I wouldn't come back without a good reason to. </p><p>In broad daylight, Knockturn feels like a sad, forgotten place, roamed by sad, forgotten creatures. At night though, there is something dangerous in the glint of stranger's eyes, like every window would hide another secret.</p><p>The <em>Serpent's Den</em> is not exactly crowded, but definitely busy, even though it's a Tuesday. I'm early, so I get to wait around under my cloak for ten minutes, having to watch not being bumped into by rude blokes.</p><p>When George finally shows up, all my senses are on high alert. Full Auror mode, I guess.</p><p>I follow the ginger into something that resembles a strip club, or at least what I've always imagined a strip club to look like. Scattered tables, some poles among them and a small stage across the grimey bar.</p><p>George heads for the closed door next to the stage, which is guarded by two men. One is a stranger, but the other not so much.</p><p>“Can I see him now?“ George asks the slouching man from earlier today.</p><p>“Patience, sweetie,“ he gives back and George and I have to wait an agonizing thirty minutes until the man waves him over.</p><p>“Your turn. But remember the rules. If I see you mistreating my lovelies one more time, you'll be banned from my property.“</p><p>I file that shocking information away to think about it later. George hands the guy a couple sickles and the man and his taciturn companion step aside.I follow George through the door, stepping too closely. George turns around, looks around, irritated. I hold my breath.</p><p>In the end, the cravings get the best of him and he shrugs the incident off, dashing up a flight of stairs.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I'm wearing black, silky pants when George Weasley barges into my room once more.</p><p>My eyebrows lift and I try to hide the shudder going through my body at the sight of the man before me. I should have known that starting out the night with nothing more than a blow job and then having the john fall asleep on me meant that it would get really bad, really quickly, to make up for that little sliver of luck daring to so much as look my way.</p><p>“I'm afraid if you beat me up like you did last time, most whorehouses in Knockturn won't grant you entrance anymore.“</p><p>“That's not what I'm here for,“ George says and it takes me only a moment to notice the slight tremble of his arms. The greenish saliva on his lips that he has a hard time controlling.</p><p>“I'm not a drug dealer.“</p><p>“I just need a little more. Please, I'll pay you. Anything you want.“</p><p>I just keep on looking at him, trying to decide how to be smart here.</p><p>“Come on, Malfoy. You seem to need money really fucking desperately. I can pay you, I swear.“</p><p>I turn my head away, my gaze sweeping over my desk that I'm sure I'll be bent over at least once again this night.</p><p>“I don't have any more,“ I say.</p><p>“You had it last time.“</p><p>George isn't acting, I'm sure. He really is that desperate. Dreamscales strips us all rather quickly of our personality.</p><p>“That was... a coincidence. I don't deal, George.“</p><p>He hisses at me.</p><p>“Don't say my name.“</p><p>I roll my eyes.</p><p>“Yes, sir.“</p><p>The thing is, he just has too many siblings. I can't call them all Weasley. It gets confusing even in my own head.</p><p>George is still standing there, on the dirty carpet once again, wringing his hands.</p><p>“If you want to fuck me, have at it. I'm assuming you paid. But other than that, there is really nothing I can do for you,“ I say.</p><p>The cry George lets out shocks me just a little. I'm used to all sorts of cries and screams and grunts and what not, but it's been a while since I've been confronted with pain like this.</p><p>Mad eyes fixate on my face.</p><p>“I'll pay you fifty Galleons.“</p><p>My mouth runs dry. Fifty Galleons is more than I make in a year. It's enough for... a lot. George is right – I need the money. But I also need to stay out of Azkaban and dealing Dreamscales, even just buying them, is a safe way to end me up there.</p><p>“A hundred.“</p><p>I stare at George.</p><p>“You don't mean that. You don't even have that much.“</p><p>George snorts.</p><p>“Yeah, I do. The Joke Shop's doing great and I have nothing else to spend my money on. So? Do we have a deal?“</p><p>I swallow thickly.</p><p>“I'll see what I can do.“</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes me a while to swallow my pride, but in the end, my sense of self-preservence overpowers my shame and I do the most logical thing. </p><p>I owl Potter.</p><p>He doesn't respond to my owl, which is why I can't stop fidgeting, sitting in the Leaky, curling and uncurling my fingers. </p><p>When a familiar hooded figure appears in the doorframe, I let out a breath of relief. It's weird, being so happy to see Potter. But I guess the promise of hundred Galleons does that to someone.</p><p>Hundred Galleons. That's enough to give me a perspective. Maybe. It will at least buy me some time to think. If, maybe, there's a way out for me afterall.</p><p>“I thought you didn't want to see me again,“ Potter says, pushing back his hood and revealing messy, black hair.</p><p>“I changed my mind.“</p><p>Something in the way he regards me makes me uneasy. As if he'd never seen me before.</p><p>I shrug it off and try for small talk – asking him about Auror training, then about his friends.</p><p>I'm usually brilliant at reading people. Afterall, it's my job to make men happy, to give them what they want. Be what they want.</p><p>Potter isn't as easy to read as most of them. Maybe that's mostly because of the strange circumstances and the fact that I can't turn to my usual repertoire of tricks to entertain him. </p><p>But I have to try, because this is important. I need those Galleons. More than anyone else I know.</p><p>“We're working a real case now,“ Potter says and the good thing is, I don't even have to feign my interest.</p><p>“Really? What is it about?“</p><p>“Well, I obviously can't tell you.“</p><p>Right.</p><p>“What about you though? What have you been up to?“</p><p>Getting defensive won't do if I want him to trust me, so I'm very careful in not letting my smile slip.</p><p>I flap my hand.</p><p>“Oh, nothing interesting.“</p><p>“You still haven't told me what you do for work.“</p><p>Green eyes are piercing me and it's hard to remain relaxed.</p><p>“Well, I work at a club,“ I say.</p><p>The first rule of lying successfully is to stay as close to the truth as possible.</p><p>“What kind of club?“</p><p>I tilt my head. </p><p>“A night club. I doubt you know it.“</p><p>“So, what do you do there?“</p><p>I frown at him and put just the right amout of annoyance in my voice.</p><p>“Mixing drinks, mostly. Waiting tables. That sort of thing. Why do you care?“</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>“Just curious.“</p><p>I take a sip from my chocolate.</p><p>“Well, it certainly can't compare to your career.“</p><p>I try not to lay the flattery on too thickly, but usually, playing impressed and a touch submissive works with every guy.</p><p>He flinches a little and looks away.</p><p>“Not that you couldn't be just as brilliant if you did something else,“ I add, remembering that Potter doesn't want to be an Auror.</p><p>But apparently, instead of glossing over my mistake, I make it all worse. Potter looks at me with an expression dangerously close to disgusted. Just a little pained.</p><p>I almost panic.</p><p>“Don't,“ he says.</p><p>“Don't what?“</p><p>“Do that. Like – don't pretend you're some fan like everybody else. It makes me sick.“</p><p>Obviously, I've gotten it all wrong.</p><p>Obviously, I'm an utter moron. It's not like I wouldn't know that Potter actually doesn't seek attention all that much.</p><p>I take a breath.</p><p>“I'm not a fan, Potter. I assure you.“</p><p>“Good.“</p><p>While I take a moment to think about my next approach, Potter catches me off guard.</p><p>“What do you want?“</p><p>My gaze snaps up.</p><p>“Who says I want anything?“</p><p>“It's obvious, Malfoy. You clearly didn't come here just to chat. So what is it?“</p><p>Our eyes lock and I think maybe, with the head through the wall might be best here. It's how Potter operates, afterall.</p><p>“I need a favour.“</p><p>“What kind of favour?“</p><p>I realize that I'm pulling at the delicate skin around my cuticles and stop it immediately.</p><p>“I need Dreamscales.“</p><p>“I thought you're not an addict.“</p><p>“They're not for me.“</p><p>Potter leans back and crosses his arms in front of his chest.</p><p>“Don't tell me you don't know where to get them. You're using.“</p><p>The Gryffindor snorts.</p><p>“Yeah, I know you think I am.“</p><p>I roll my eyes, unable to fight my annoyance.</p><p>“No reason to pretend with me. I'm not going to rat you out to your precious friends.“</p><p>Potter leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.</p><p>“I'm not an addict. Never have been.“</p><p>“Okay, Potter. Suit yourself. But I really need you to get me some Dreamscales.“</p><p>“No, you don't understand. I'm really not. I just used to get them for a friend of mine.“</p><p>I roll my eyes.</p><p>“That's what they all say. But as I said, it's fine. I don't care what you do or don't do.“</p><p>Potter's eyes flicker over my face.</p><p>“I used to get them for George. He went off the rails after the war. No one could blame him. It was the only thing that helped.“</p><p>I manage to lock my jaw before it can drop, but it's a close call. </p><p>So Potter didn't lie afterall, that first time we ran into each other. He really wanted that little sachet to be the last one. He obviously isn't getting them for George anymore.</p><p>Which is why George is now scratching on my door.</p><p>Small world, I guess.</p><p>The only thing I don't quite understand is why Potter would tell me. It's a risk to expose his friend like this.</p><p>But he probably thinks I'm no threat and he's right about that. And maybe it's important to him to clear his own name.</p><p>“I'm sorry about George,“ I say neutrally. “But that doesn't change anything about my request.“</p><p>Potter frowns at me.</p><p>“Could you even pay? Dreamscales aren't cheap.“</p><p>No, they're not. Five grams usually cost you about ten Galleons. Seven, if you're fine with some shit mixed in there.</p><p>I don't have ten Galleons lying around. I think if I cut all expenses I usually indulge in for the next weeks, I might be able to come up with five.</p><p>Potter sees me squirming in my chair and I hate it.</p><p>“Not all at once, but I could pay you in instalments.“</p><p>The great Draco Malfoy needs to pay ten Galleons in instalments. Well.</p><p>“Why do you want them? That shit fucks you up,“ Potter says as if I didn't know.</p><p>“I already told you they're not for me.“</p><p>“For whom then?“</p><p>I narrow my eyes at him.</p><p>“That's really none of your business.“</p><p>Potter's expression mirrors mine and I hold it until my nerves get the best of me.</p><p>I'm tired and I'm hurting and I need to get home before I leave for the night and ensure I'll be hurting even more tomorrow. I need that money. I really fucking need it.</p><p>I lower my gaze and swallow my pride. That's all I've been doing for years now – submit and swallow. My pride, my dignity and the spunk of a countless number of johns.</p><p>“Please, Potter.“</p><p>The Gryffindor opens his mouth and bites his lip. Shifts his weight.</p><p>“Okay, fine. I'll get it for you.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I get Malfoy's (or should I maybe say George's) Dreamscales the same night I'm going out on my first field mission. It's a small one, not even really a case and more to get us used to operating under cover and dealing with real people, not the actors they usually get us to interrogate.</p><p>To me, the mission feels heaven sent – or maybe hell sent, I haven't decided on that one yet.</p><p>I know it's kind of risky to walk into a brothel with Dreamscales in your pocket, but I'm Harry Potter and though I mostly hate it, I know that it also protects me. Even though I'm here in disguise – as an Auror and the Chosen One, I'm sure I could find an explaination why I have drugs in my possession.</p><p>My heart is pounding loudly as I enter the <em>Serpent's Den</em>, knowing what to expect and also not having a clue.</p><p>Our order is to gather information about the Knockturn Alley brothels and clubs, for once because of the increasing drug dealing that seems to happen around here and also to check on the treatment of the sex workers and house elves. There have been quite many cases of dead sex workers over the last years and we're finally starting a way overdue investigation on the conditions the Knockturn prostitutes are working under.</p><p>This case might be an incredible coincidence, but the fact that I'm in this whoreshouse, waiting to see no one else but Draco Malfoy, is not.</p><p>It took me quite a lot of sweettalking and strong presentation of weak arguments to convince Robards to let me go here alone and talk to prostitutes in disguise. He was skeptical what use such an endeavour would have – afterall, it's not like prostitutes would usually spill their guts in front of clients.</p><p>But I managed to convince him that I think it necessary and he relented in the end. It's not like this case would have top priority among the Aurors. Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent their trainees.</p><p>“Kit, sweetie?“</p><p>I look up and step forward. The slouching man that I now know is called Serpent, waves me over, slimey smile on his face.</p><p>“He is ready for you now.“</p><p>I make my best impression of an innocent, excited grin and push past him, heading up the stairs.</p><p>I'm wearing the best disguise I've ever worn, which is solely thanks to Hermoine. This is too important for me to try my own shitty spells.</p><p>My body has stayed pretty much the same, with the exception of a slightly lighter skin, but my face is not recognizable. I look like an average, rather boring Gringott's intern.</p><p>When I reach the door to Malfoy's room, my heart is hammering so fast that it physically hurts.</p><p>Hesitantly, I raise my hand and knock.</p><p>A short silence. Then, a melodical: “Enter,“ answers.</p><p>I take a deep breath and open the door, sliding into the room I already know.</p><p>Staying under my cloak while following George in here has taken me more willpower than I knew I possessed. But revealing myself in that moment would have been beyond stupid – neither George nor Malfoy would ever speak to me again. Plus that I could have been fired if anyone found out that I was there in the first place.</p><p>Seeing Malfoy then was such a shock that I thought I'd be hallucinating for at least three seconds.</p><p>Now, I know I'm not, but seeing him still takes my breath away. Makes my heart ache.</p><p>He's wearing nothing but velvety red short shorts, lounging on his bed. Sin embodied.</p><p>My mouth goes dry and my heartbeat is still painful.</p><p>“Hey, handsome,“ he says, his eyes sweeping over me.</p><p>When it becomes clear that I've lost my ability to move, he slowly gets up. He walks with the grace of a panther and everything about him is so confusingly alluring that I almost turn and run.</p><p>Only when his arms loosley wrap around my neck and he leans in to kiss me, my system finally kickstarts. I push him away.</p><p>“That's not what I'm here for,“ I choke out and Malfoy just raises one elegant eyebrow and that small habit I know so well hits me right where I'm already hurting.</p><p>“We don't have to kiss. We can play as rough as you like. Anything you want.“</p><p>His hand reaches for my crotch, but I catch his wrist and try to regain my composure. Focus on what I'm here to do.</p><p>“No, I really just – I want to talk to you. I need some advise.“</p><p>“Advise from a whore?“</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“About sex.“</p><p>I think Malfoy is surprised, but he hides it well, as always.</p><p>“Well, then. Sit with me.“</p><p>He returns to the bed and I sit down next to him. He folds his legs until he sits cross-legged and tilts his head. I try not to look at his pale, smooth chest, but I don't quite manage it.</p><p>The Ministry thinks I'm here to coax information about his keeper, eventual drug dealings and mistreatments out of him.</p><p>Malfoy is supposed to think I'm some blushing youngster that is only just discovering his sexuality and needs some help navigating things.</p><p>But the <em>real</em> reason why I'm here is the one I haven't quite figured out yet.</p><p>I guess I want to see how Malfoy lives. Or works, or whatever. Maybe I just need to understand.</p><p>Maybe I want to figure out how to protect him.</p><p>I honestly don't know.</p><p>“Anything specific, baby?“</p><p>Malfoy's eyes study my face and I can tell he's trying to figure me out, searching for what I want him to be.</p><p>“Um...“</p><p>I haven't really thought that far. All the ideas I had what I could ask him about to ease into it seem to have evaporated.</p><p>“Maybe start telling me a little about yourself. What's your name?“</p><p>“I'm Kit,“ I say, the name tasting strange on my tongue.</p><p>“Alright, Kit. Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?“</p><p>I shake my head.</p><p>“No, I... used to have a girlfriend, but we broke up.“</p><p>“I'm sorry.“</p><p>Malfoy puts a hand on my knee and I bite my lip. He's probably trying to test the waters. Maybe Kit is just shy. Too shy to ask for what he <em>really</em> came here for.<br/>I didn't come here for sex. But I can't help but feel a little distracted by Malfoy's nakedness.</p><p>“It's okay. It was a while ago.“</p><p>I shrug and hope to signalize that I didn't come here to talk about my ex.</p><p>“Do you need... help figuring out your sexuality? Are you not sure you might like blokes better?“</p><p>I meet Malfoy's pale eyes.</p><p>“I'm... I mean, I'm pretty sure I like blokes. I just -“</p><p>“You just haven't tried it yet. I see.“</p><p>He smiles a smile that has my head spinning and only the awareness that this is Malfoy's poker face, that he doesn't really mean it, gives me the strength to gently push him away when he inches closer again.</p><p>The fact that he has such an effect on me startles me. Maybe Ron was right all along and I really do need to get laid.</p><p>“I really don't want to sleep with you,“ I say.</p><p>Malfoy blinks and his hands fidget a little.</p><p>“I... don't understand.“</p><p>His gaze darts to the door. Maybe he is nervous I'm going to complain about him to his slimy git of a boss.</p><p>“Don't worry, I won't cause you any trouble. I just – I'm lonely.“</p><p>Something uncomfortably honest must have slipped into my voice, because Malfoy's eyes settle.</p><p>“Alright.“</p><p>He shifts his weight, adjusts his legs until he's comfortable.</p><p>“Can you... do you like your job?“</p><p>Malfoy doesn't blink. His mask is perfectly in place.</p><p>“I love it. What about you? Do you like your job?“</p><p>“Not particularly.“</p><p>“Why not?“</p><p>I don't know what to do. What was I thinking, coming here? Malfoy doesn't talk to his clients about any of the things I need to know. Why would he tell some random Kit anything about his life?</p><p>“I feel like I'm usually just doing what everyone else wants me to, but never what I really want.“</p><p>The ghost of a bitter smile plays around Malfoy's lips, before his expression morphs into sympathy.</p><p>“You know the feeling?“ I ask.</p><p>Malfoy shrugs it off.</p><p>“I assume everyone does.“</p><p>This is pointless. This is absolutely pointless and I should leave. I should leave and yet, I can't bring myself to. I keep looking at Malfoy and everything in me is aching. Hurting.</p><p>Malfoy's gaze nervously darts to the right, before finding my face again.</p><p>“Would you maybe like some tips about... anything specific? If you need to know how to pull, I can try helping with that too.“</p><p>I swallow thickly. Shake my head.</p><p>“No thank you.“</p><p>Malfoy blinks at me and I can tell he's uneasy. I made him uneasy and I feel I can hardly breathe in this room, this room smelling of sex and perfume and faintly of mold.</p><p>“Do you go out with people?“ I ask him.</p><p>“Excuse me?“</p><p>“I mean, like – could we leave this club? During the time I – I paid for.“</p><p>Malfoy shakes his head.</p><p>“No, I'm sorry. But if you have a kink for public stuff, we can pretend. It's also possible to rent more than one whore at once, but you'll have to do that prior to the meeting.“</p><p>A tear I wasn't aware was pressing against my eyeball rolls over my cheek. Malfoy's eyes widen in horror.</p><p>“Oh, shit. I'm sorry, what -“</p><p>He reaches for me, but I take his wrists and push them down, as gently as I can.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?“ I ask, voice choked.</p><p>I don't know why I get so emotional. Most people would say Malfoy doesn't deserve any better. Only a month ago, I might have agreed. But right now, I feel like weeping.</p><p>Malfoy draws back, suspicion plain on his face.</p><p>“You don't know me, Kit. Do you?“</p><p>I shake my head and try for a smile.</p><p>“Not really, no.“</p><p>“Not really?“</p><p>I think I can see his heart beating, but maybe I'm imagining things.</p><p>“I think I should go. Sorry to waste your time.“</p><p>Malfoy gets up with me, crowds in close.</p><p>“The hour isn't up yet. Please, don't leave. I'll – I'm here to make you happy, not cry. Just tell me what you want.“</p><p>I try for another smile.</p><p>“It's not your fault at all. Don't worry.“</p><p>With that, I rush out of the room.</p><p>I only stop when I run into Serpent at the foot of the stairs.</p><p>“Kit. Your time isn't up yet.“</p><p>He takes in my shaken appearance.</p><p>“What happened, sweetie? Did my lovely not fulfill your wishes?“</p><p>I swallow and force my voice to be stable and not drenched with tears or anger.</p><p>“He was perfect. Exactly what I wanted. I'm just... done early.“</p><p>Serepent gives me another look.</p><p>“Alright, then. I'd be happy to welcome you back anytime.“</p><p>“Yeah.“</p><p>With that, I more or less run out of the building, making it just in time until I'm throwing up all over the cobble stones outside.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>It's another rainy night and I'm already two johns in when George finally shows up in my room – the room that isn't really mine at all. </p><p>I'm hurting all over. The last john had stamina I really think no man should posses and when he finally came after what felt like hours of pounding into me while I chafed my arms raw on the carpet, he used one of the digusting dildos stored in my desk and now I feel like I've been run over by a truck – just that most of the damage is internal. I think there is a tear again in the tight ring of muscle, even though I'm really trying lately to prepare myself well enough to avoid any kind of fissures. </p><p>This means the next days of buggery will be painful, very fucking painful, and the strange urge to cry rises inside of me. I push the ridiculous self-pity away and focus on the fact that I'm about to get one hundred Galleons richer. </p><p>Potter sent me a sachet of Dreamscales per owl earlier today, a scribbled note attached.</p><p><em>Don't worry about the payment</em>, it read. I don't really know what he meant by that, but I'd kiss his feet for it. As soon as I got the hundred Galleons, I can definitely spare him ten the next time I see him.</p><p>“You got it?“</p><p>George is trembling again. If he keeps this up, he won't last much more than a year from now on. But that really isn't my problem, so I just hand him the powder, without much ceremony.</p><p>He grins, widely, but before he can snort it, I take his wrist.</p><p>“The money.“</p><p>“Right.“</p><p>He drops a little bag of clinking Galleons in my hands and I almost cry.</p><p>While George is getting high lying on the dried cum of an armada of johns, I count my money, again and again, and allow myself, for the first time in years, to feel hope.</p><p> </p><p>It's that hope that carries me through the john that tells me to straddle his lap and call him daddy, the one that take me from behind until I'm biting down on my forearm hard enough to draw blood, just to keep from screaming.</p><p>Blood is running down my thighs by the time that one is done with me.</p><p>“Merlin's balls. Someone played rough,“ the next one coming in says and I want to scratch at my own face in shame and fury. But I have a bag of Galleons stored safely in my drawer so I manage to smile and offer to clean up real quick.</p><p>“It's fine,“ the john says and then I spend the next twenty minutes on my knees, obediently sucking the bloke's cock while he is telling me what a disgusting slut I am.</p><p>When no new john bursts into my room, I scramble to my feet. I don't bother trying to wipe the blood off my thighs – I know I'm not done bleeding yet, so why make the effort?</p><p>Instead, I stagger to the desk, every step burning, and open the middle drawer.</p><p>The first look tells me the terrible truth, but I refuse to believe it. I have to grab the bag, have to shove my hand inside, have to turn it and shake it and then whimper, high, choked off sounds, until I finally face the fact that I've been cheated.</p><p>Unelegantly, I drop to my knees, the bag crumpled up in my clenched fists.</p><p>“Darling?“</p><p>Aquaria knocks on my door.</p><p>“Not right now.“</p><p>“Draco, are you sure you're fine?“</p><p>“Yes, I – just a minute!“</p><p>She leaves me and I fold in on myself until I'm nothing but another stain on the carpet.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“Just one photo!“</p><p>“Harry, what will it feel like to be the youngest Headauror in a century?“</p><p>“When will we finally see you with a girlfriend, Harry?“</p><p>I cut my losses and retreat under my cloak. Everyone knows I have it by now, but since it's immune to spells and charms, it still protects me pretty well.</p><p>Unseen, I make it to the Leaky.</p><p>The door seems to creak more than it usually does and the wood is still moist from the rain last night. Pulling down my cloak, I slink inside – and almost drop everything as my gaze finds Malfoy.</p><p>He's sitting hunched over, folded into a corner. His head is hanging down, blond, messy hair covering his face.</p><p>“Malfoy?“</p><p>He looks up, at me, and my heart aches again. </p><p>“Jesus, what happened to you?“</p><p>I'm used to his sharp features, the shadows under his eyes and the sad lines around his mouth. But right now, he looks like someone had dragged him through hell and back.</p><p>“Why do you keep saying that?“</p><p>“Saying what?“</p><p>“Jesus.“</p><p>I almost laugh.</p><p>“You don't know Muggle religion?“</p><p>“I mean, I know that they pray to Jesus Christ, but... why say it like that?“</p><p>“It's like Merlin. Also, they mostly pray to God, but – you know what, it doesn't matter.“</p><p>Malfoy swallows and nods slowly. His eyelids are dropping low, his lashes covering his eyes.</p><p>“Malfoy, what happened? You look horrible.“</p><p>The look sent my way seems too exhausted to really sting.</p><p>“Ever so charming, Potter.“</p><p>“Malfoy.“</p><p>He bites his lip, which already looks like it's been bitten raw, and says: “I only have four Galleons today. I'll probably be able to get you more by next week, I just...“</p><p>I reach over the table. He flinches when I take his hands, but I don't let go. His skin is icy.</p><p>“I don't care about the bloody money. I have more than enough. What happened to you?“</p><p>I think some bloke is eyeing us from his table, but I pay him no mind. Malfoy swallows. I've never seen him on the verge of losing it like this.</p><p>“I just got cheated, is all. It was stupid of me not to expect it.“</p><p>He bites down on his lip again. Hard.</p><p>Fucking George.</p><p>“I'm so sorry.“</p><p>“Not your fault.“</p><p>Malfoy pulls his hands away, starts searching his pockets.</p><p>“I mean it. You don't have to pay me.“</p><p>The look Malfoy throws me is wounded.</p><p>“I'm not a charity case, Potter.“</p><p>I take a deep breath and make a decision.</p><p>I've never been good at hiding. Acting and pretending isn't my thing.</p><p>“Malfoy, I know.“</p><p>He narrows his eyes, tiredness radiating off him in waves.</p><p>“What the fuck do you know, Potter?“</p><p>I think he realizes it a moment before I say it. I'm pretty easy to read.</p><p>“I know that you're a prostitute.“</p><p>Malfoy blanches. He gets up, flinches. I'm faster than him, blocking his way.</p><p>“Please, sit down and talk to me.“</p><p>“The hell I will!“</p><p>Horror and shame are displayed on his features. So much shame.</p><p>“I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to. But please, sit down.“</p><p>I'm not sure if Malfoy follows my request because he wants to or because he thinks I won't let him walk anyway. For now, I don't argue the case.</p><p>His face twists as he sits and I want to kill every man that ever laid hands on him. The men that hurt him.</p><p>“Why?“</p><p>Malfoy huffs out a bitter, dark laugh.</p><p>“Why do people sell themselves? For money, Potter. You really are a shit Auror.“</p><p>“But why prostitution? I mean, yeah, I get that your options were limited, but... that limited?“</p><p>Malfoy stares at me, his chest heaving.</p><p>“Maybe I enjoy it. Maybe I love being a slut. Ever thought of that?“</p><p>“You don't look like you enjoy it,“ I say quietly.</p><p>This time, I'm not quite sure what gave me away, but Malfoy's jaw drops and he howls. He actually howls and now hatred is gleaming in his eyes.</p><p>“You were there. You saw me. You – you -“</p><p>Madness is flickering in his eyes, a whirlwind of shame and hatred and humiliation.</p><p>It takes me a moment to catch on to what he thinks. He believes I've fucked him and he didn't even  know.</p><p>“I was Kit. That awkward guy that asked you a ton of questions.“</p><p>After a second, it clicks.</p><p>An infinitisimal amount of relief crosses Malfoy's features.</p><p>“Smooth, Potter. Fucking smooth.“</p><p>“Yeah, that was stupid.“</p><p>Malfoy's face is so hurt, I want nothing more than to make it stop. It scares me, how much I care.</p><p>“What did you want there?“</p><p>The fight is already leaving his voice. Replaced by pure exhaustion.</p><p>“Honestly, I don't really know. I guess I was trying to... understand.“</p><p>“Understand.“</p><p>We stare at each other.</p><p>“Malfoy, why?“</p><p>The Slytherin shakes his head, a joyless grin on his face.</p><p>“Why do you keep asking me that? For the money, Potter. It's that simple.“</p><p>“Wouldn't you rather... waiting tables or... I don't know, do dull paperwork or something like that? That can't have been the only option.“</p><p>Malfoy crosses his arms.</p><p>“It was prostitution or working as some temp for the shadiest shops in Knockturn. And prostitution pays way better. Even when your pimp doesn't let you see half of the money you make.“</p><p>He looks away.</p><p>“But...“</p><p>“I should go. And I don't want to ever see you again,“ he says.</p><p>“No.“</p><p>I grab his wrist, then let it go, shocked by the raw pain on Malfoy's face.</p><p>“Merlin, Potter. What else do you <em>want</em>? You've seen me at my worst, you know I don't have anything left. What more could you possibly want?“</p><p>I swallow heavily.</p><p>“I don't want to see you hurt.“</p><p>Malfoy snorts and shakes his head.</p><p>“You don't care about me.“</p><p>“I do.“</p><p>The air between us seems to solidify. Malfoy stares at me.</p><p>“Why would you?“</p><p>“I can't explain it. But I do.“</p><p>Malfoy says nothing to that. Just leans back, his shoulders slumping like I've never seen them do before.</p><p>“How did you even know how to find me?“</p><p>He realizes it before I can answer.</p><p>“George. Who else did he tell?“</p><p>“He didn't tell me. I followed him.“</p><p>“Of course you did.“</p><p>Malfoy drops his face in his hands. I want to touch him, but I don't.</p><p>“I have to go,“ he finally says.</p><p>“Okay. When can I see you again?“</p><p>Malfoy gives me a long look.</p><p>“What are you on about, Potter?“</p><p>“Nothing. I just want to see you again.“</p><p>“You're crazy.“</p><p>“Maybe.“</p><p>I shrug and smile at him. Malfoy doesn't return it. Just frowns at me, then gets up and leaves with heavy steps.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“Mother, you need to eat something.“</p><p>Narcissa Malfoy merely blinks at me. Her long blond hair feels brittle under my fingers as I stroke it. It has lost its shimmer months ago.</p><p>I open the window to her small room, trying to get some fluctuation, to banish the stuffy air, but I know it won't last long.</p><p>If it was up to her, the windows would be opened at every hour of the day, but I'm afraid she might actually freeze to death if I grant her wish.</p><p>“Do you need to leave again tonight?“ my mother asks, her voice croaky and weak.</p><p>“I do. But I'll be back tomorrow,“ I promise.</p><p>She gifts me with the ghost of a smile. I swallow and return it.</p><p>Our tiny flat is filled with the smell of sickness and desperation, yet my mother is the only reason for me to keep going. I've often thought that if it wasn't for her, I'd have ended it all long ago. But she's here, in this bed the covers of which I don't change often enough, and she's waiting for me to come home every night.</p><p>Sometimes I worry she keeps herself awake with the attempt to wait for me, but there is not much I can do about it.</p><p>“Do you want me to make some more tea?“ I ask her. “I've bought your favourite.“</p><p>Another faint smile graces her pale lips.</p><p>“My love,“ she says.</p><p> </p><p>I'm almost late at the club. If you can't apparate, the way is quite a long one. But I make it on time, that's why I'm startled and surprised when Serpent grabs my arm. Manically, I run every possible reason, everything I might have done wrong, through my head.</p><p>“You have a very special client tonight, my lovely. Make him happy.“</p><p>The warning is clear in Serpent's tone and I nod obediently.</p><p>“Of course I will.“</p><p>“I count on it.“</p><p>He smacks my arse and I make my way up to my room.</p><p>A faint worry is nagging at me. Who that very special client might be. But even Potter wouldn't be that cruel, would he?</p><p>Still, my hands are shaking a little as I get ready. I pull on my black jeans, feeling the need to cover as much of myself as possible.</p><p>Which is ridiculous, since it's entirely up to my clients how much of me is covered, but right now, I feel better in my jeans than in some thong, so I leave them on.<br/>I don't have to wait long tonight. Precisely the minute my shift starts, there is a knock on the door. I close my eyes. Only very, very few people knock.</p><p>I say nothing and when the door finally opens, it does so slowly, carefully.</p><p>“Malfoy?“</p><p>I stare at Potter, slinking into the room, gently closing the door behind himself.</p><p>I can't stop the tears from falling.</p><p>“You didn't,“ I say, my voice surprisingly calm under the tears.</p><p>Potter's brows knit together in concern.</p><p>“You didn't,“ I repeat.</p><p>“Malfoy...“</p><p>I stare at the ceiling and will my tears to stop flowing, my jaw to stop trembling. I take a deep breath, wipe the wetness off my cheeks, paste a smile on and get up.</p><p>“Let's get this over with, then.“</p><p>I approach Potter, who is making huge eyes at me like a startled animal. I wish he'd decided to come on a day my arsehole doesn't look like a bloody battlefield, but nothing to be done about that now. Maybe he won't even notice. Some don't need to look. They're too impatient.</p><p>“Malfoy.“</p><p>“What do you want, Potter? Play out some schoolboy fantasies? Should I wear a tie?“</p><p>I only have a black one, but I guess that would do.</p><p>“No, Malfoy, I – that's not what I'm here for.“</p><p>“I think it is though, Potter.“</p><p>I reach for his fly and a furious blush is creeping over his cheeks. He pushes my hand away</p><p>“No. No, I'm here so you can sleep. You look like hell.“</p><p>I draw back and cross my arms, trying to keep the hysteria gnawing at me at bay. I'm sleep-deprived and in pain and fucking ashamed and if he doesn't want to fuck me, then he needs to get out.</p><p>“You can't save everyone,“ I say quietly.</p><p>“I can try.“</p><p>“I don't need you. I've gotten by splendidly before you decided to show up.“</p><p>“I know. But it's killing me, knowing you have to... do this.“</p><p>My arms drop and I stare at him.</p><p>“Why? You hardly know me.“</p><p>“I know! It doesn't makes sense, I just... please, let me help you.“</p><p>“You can't help me, Potter. No one can.“</p><p>Potter flops down on the big, fouled bed and smiles at me. Pats the spot next to him.</p><p>I raise my eyebrows, but join him nonetheless, displaying myself like I usually would, feeling like scum. Like trash.</p><p>“And now?“ I ask, face close to his.</p><p>I feel nervous. Shy. But I won't show him. I'll show him who I am, show him exactly. Because I'm a whore and he needs to understand that and finally leave me alone.</p><p>My hand is creeping up his thigh – until he stops it with his, takes it and scoots up the bed, tugging me with him, lying on his back.</p><p>“What do you want?“ I repeat, but it sounds insecure, unsure.</p><p>“I want you to sleep.“</p><p>His smile sends my head spinning.</p><p>Gently, he touches my head. When I don't move, he starts petting my hair.</p><p>“Leave, Potter.“</p><p>“If you want to, I'll sit somewhere else. But I won't leave until you've slept.“</p><p>My body aches and I'm so tired that my eyelids are already dropping. Against my will, I settle more comfortably in the disgusting covers, on my belly, one leg drawn up.</p><p>“One hour of sleep will change nothing,“ I manage to get out before I'm swallowed by a silk blanket of blackness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something tickles my nose.  I sneeze before I even open my eyes.</p><p>“Bless you,“ someone says.</p><p>I blink my eyes open, confused. I'm in the bed at the <em>Serpent's Den</em>, but I feel uncharacteristically rested.</p><p>Someone is splayed out next to me, back against the headboard.</p><p>Slowly, I lift my head.</p><p>Harry Potter is sitting next to me on the bed the johns fuck me on, reading a book. He puts it down and smiles at me.</p><p>“Hey.“</p><p>I push myself up into a sitting position, groaning as pain shoots through me. It's not as intense anymore though. I feel... not good, but at least not tired anymore.</p><p>“What... what time is it?“</p><p>“About five in the morning, I think. You've slept around eight hours.“</p><p>My jaw drops. Frantically, I search the room with my eyes.</p><p>“What? But... what are you still doing here? What about -“</p><p>“I've paid for the whole night, obviously.“</p><p>I let the words sink in.</p><p>“Right. You paid.“</p><p>My voice is cool. The green eyes on me are sad.</p><p>“I'm sorry. I didn't want to, but... I saw no other way.“</p><p>I wrinkle my nose and sit up.</p><p>“What are you reading?“</p><p>“Your... colleague gave it to me. It's quite captivating, actually.“</p><p>“You mean Aquaria?“</p><p>He smiles.</p><p>“Yeah, that was her name. She wanted to check on you.“</p><p>“She usually does.“</p><p>I look at Potter. He looks tired. His features are soft in the yellow light of the room.</p><p>“I have to go soon,“ he says. “But so can you. Do you want me to bring you home?“</p><p>His voice is gentle and I cast my eyes down, looking at my hands.</p><p>“My mother is ill,“ I say.</p><p>Potter waits. It's almost like he doesn't even breathe.</p><p>“That's why I do it. Why I need the money so bad. She needs her medicine and appointments with healers. This is the only way I can afford it.“</p><p>“I'll pay for it.“</p><p>I laugh a little. The smile I give Potter is almost warm. I can't pretend I wouldn't be touched at what he's done. I hate him for it, but I'm also touched.</p><p>“I won't allow that.“</p><p>His eyes are blazing. The book slide from his lap as he turns to me, gaze intent.</p><p>“Why not? You deserve better. You don't deserve to rot in here.“</p><p>I make my gaze steady and cool.</p><p>“Thank you for your concern. But no.“</p><p>“Why not?“ he repeats.</p><p>He looks like a kicked puppy and I can't help but reach out, stroking my fingers over his cheek. His eyes are on me and his lips part.</p><p>“Because if you did, you'd own me. I could never hope to pay you back.“</p><p>I slowly pull my hand back.</p><p>“It's bad enough to be a whore at all. I don't think I could stand to be yours.“</p><p>“I don't see it like that,“ Potter says.</p><p>“I know. But you would, eventually.“</p><p>I can tell he wants to fight me. Wants to convince me and force me to let him help, let him save me.</p><p>But he swallows. He swallows it down like I swallow my pride.</p><p>“Okay.“</p><p>A weight is lifted off my chest.</p><p>“Thank you,“ I say and mean it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The chair is scraping over the floor as Ron gets up.</p><p>“Are you coming, mate?“</p><p>I shake my head, internally thanking all the gods that might or might not exist for Ron finally leaving.</p><p>“I need to finish something. I'll see you at home.“</p><p>“Yeah, see you.“</p><p>Ron shrugs on his coat and crosses the small office we spend most of our time in. As soon as he's gone, I get up as well, heading toward the lift. I need to get down to the archives.</p><p>Since the first time I laid eyes on them, I've understood why Hermione loves the Ministry's archives so much. They're basically just a couple huge rooms with shelves up the ceiling, stocked with books and files that come floating down when you call for them.</p><p>I know that I'm generally not supposed to be down here without an explicit order, but no one ever really checks me, at least not for little things like this.</p><p>It doesn't take me long to find Malfoy's file. I settle in one of the cozy armchairs standing at every corner of the maze created by the shelves.</p><p>I flip through the trial and slow down on the latest entries. Malfoy isn't allowed to carry a wand any longer. Otherwise, there are no official restrictions on him. He's even allowed to travel, if he so wishes.</p><p>But without a wand, it's almost impossible to find a respectable job in the wizarding community.</p><p>I close the file and send it up the shelf again, where it settles back on its old place. I sit in the soft chair for a moment longer, then get up and head to the exit.</p><p>I need to make an appointment with the Minister.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, Harry.“</p><p>This time, it's George chasing after me. He's actually chasing me down Diagon, his footsteps drumming on the ground. The air smells like rain once again, but the sky has yet to open its floodgates.</p><p>“No. I said no and I meant it. I thought you've found another dealer, anyway.“</p><p>It's hard reining in my anger at George. I can't confront him because he probably shouldn't know that I know about Malfoy.</p><p>And it's also not like I wouldn't understand that George doesn't like the Slytherin. But betraying him like that, with Leprechaun gold, was low. </p><p>“I fucked up with them.“</p><p>George grabs my arm and I whirl around.</p><p>“I won't do it, George. If you want to kill yourself, you have to ask someone else to help you. Not me, okay?“</p><p>George opens his mouth to answer, when I spot not only one, but two familiar faces. Ron had lingered at Fortescue's, talking to Seamus, while I was already on my way to Flurish and Blott's. Now he seems to have caught up to me.</p><p>George only spots one though, no matter how quickly Malfoy ducks his head, trying to escape the ginger's gaze.</p><p>Completely oblivious to any common sense, George shouts: “Malfoy!“</p><p>The Slytherin tries to escape, but George chases him down, while I'm chasing him. </p><p>“Malfoy, I have to -“</p><p>I grab George's arm, Malfoy's and my gaze meeting, when Ron approaches up.</p><p>“What the hell?“</p><p>He looks at me, then at his brother. Then at Malfoy, who looks like he'd rather eat doxies than be here right now.</p><p>It is surreal, standing at Diagon on a Sunday afternoon with Ron, George and Malfoy of all people.</p><p>“What are you doing here, Malfoy?“</p><p>Ron scowls at the Slytherin, but he doesn't seem like he's about to throw a punch, so I ignore him for now.</p><p>“George,“ I say warningly, but he ignores me.</p><p>“Malfoy, I'm sorry. Okay? I swear, I won't do it again, I just, I need -“</p><p>George's crazed gaze flickers to Ron.</p><p>Malfoy's features are stone and his face is blank, but I can see the fear in his eyes.</p><p>“I have no idea what you're talking about, Weasley. If you excuse me...“</p><p>But George grabs Malfoy's arm, not too gently, and says: “I swear to Merlin, I'll tell everyone if you don't...“</p><p>Malfoy yanks his arm away. George's voice drops to a whisper.</p><p>“If I can't get it from you, I'll have to ask <em>her</em>...“</p><p>Something I believe is real pain marrs George's features. </p><p>“What is going on?“</p><p>Ron's eyes dart between Malfoy and George, then settle on his brother.</p><p>“George? What the fuck do you want from Malfoy?“</p><p>“He's out of his mind,“ I say.</p><p>“I can see that.“</p><p>Ron grabs George's shoulder and spins him around. </p><p>“Piss off, Ron,“ George growls, but it's too late. </p><p>Ron's eyes widen as he takes in the greenish saliva smudging his brother's lips.</p><p>“Merlin, George. What have you done?“</p><p>He lets go of George's shoulders and turns to Malfoy. Before I can react, he's grabbed the Slytherin by his collar and put a wand under his chin.</p><p>“Did you piece of shit sell my brother Dreamscales? I'll <em>fucking</em> kill you, Malfoy, I swear.“</p><p>I grab Ron's wrist and push it down.</p><p>“Let go of him, Ron. That's not what happened.“</p><p>“What happened, then?“</p><p>I meet Ron's gaze and take a deep breath.</p><p>“I did. I'm sorry.“</p><p>Ron staggers back.</p><p>“What? No. You're joking.“</p><p>“I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't realize it would get that bad that fast.“</p><p>“I just need a tiny bit,“ George says. “I'll stop, I promise.“</p><p>Malfoy's and my eyes meet.</p><p>“I can't believe this.“</p><p>Ron stares at me and my heart starts pounding. Guilt is gnawing at my insides.</p><p>“I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.“</p><p>A droplet of rain hits my cheek. Ron turns away from me and to Malfoy.</p><p>“And how do you fit in it, huh?“</p><p>“He... must have confused me for someone else,“ Malfoy says.</p><p>“Bullshit!“</p><p>With one quick movement, Ron's wand is back at Malfoy's throat.</p><p>“Ron! Stop it! It wasn't him.“</p><p>“Yeah it was.“</p><p>We all turn to George. His face is twisted in an ugly sneer.</p><p>“Malfoy's arse is for sale. Did you know that, Ron? He's a bloody hooker.“</p><p>Malfoy's face takes on the colour of freshly fallen snow.</p><p>“And you're a drooling addict that visits Knockturn whorehouses,“ he says.</p><p>Ron's face is stone when he looks back at Malfoy.</p><p>“I'll destroy you, Ferret.“</p><p>He raises his wand higher.</p><p>“Expelliarmus,“ I say calmly and catch Ron's wand out of the air.</p><p>My friend blinks at me.</p><p>“You can do that wandless now?“</p><p>I nod. We stare at each other for a moment, the only sound coming from the sparse drops of rain hitting the ground.</p><p>“Give me my wand back, Harry.“</p><p>“Not if you plan on hexing Malfoy.“</p><p>The look Ron gives me makes me uneasy. It's like he's never seen me before. </p><p>“I won't. I don't need to.“</p><p>I give him his wand back and grab Ron's arm.</p><p>“Let's talk later, okay?“</p><p>“Whatever.“</p><p>“Please, Ron. Let's talk.“</p><p>“I don't want to talk to you right now.“</p><p>With that, he disapparates and I'm left with Malfoy and George.</p><p>“You really won't get me anything anymore?“ George asks me.</p><p>I stare at him.</p><p>“No.“</p><p>“Fine.“</p><p>He turns around and staggers down the street.</p><p>Deafening silence is crushing me as I look at Malfoy. He nods slowly.</p><p>“Well, if only you'd have let me go when I asked you to.“</p><p>“I'm sorry.“</p><p>Malfoy shrugs. He looks so endlessly tired.</p><p>“It's not your fault. Maybe it won't be as bad as expected. If Serpent kicks me out, I'm sure I'll find another whorehouse. Somewhere.“</p><p>„I'll talk to Ron. He won't tell anyone, I promise,“ I say desperately.</p><p>A look out of flat, ashen eyes is thrown at me. A look of defeat. Malfoy turns around and leaves, chin held high.</p><p>“Draco,“ I call after him.</p><p>For a moment, he freezes. A tall, slender figure, just as grey as everything else around him. His silver-gilt hair is the only patch of light.</p><p>Slowly, he turns.</p><p>“Yes?“</p><p>“Come with me. Come with me and I'll pay your mother's meds. We'll figure it out.“</p><p>Draco crooks as a smile at me, then turns again and walks away.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>It's been one month until I last saw Harry. One month of anxiety, waiting for angry men to storm the club and end me.</p><p>But nothing happens, nothing out of the ordinary anyway. It seems like, somehow, Harry got Weasley to keep his gob shut. I have no idea how he did it, but he managed.</p><p>“My lovely?“</p><p>I lift my head. My whole body is limp and aching and I don't even know anymore what it is that is making my thighs so sticky.</p><p>Serpent slinks into the room.</p><p>“I have one more for tonight, alright?“</p><p>I smile serenely at him.</p><p>“Of course.“</p><p>The way Serpent lingers for a moment gives me the impression that, maybe, I could have actually said no this time. Serpent is not a kind man by any means, but I don't think he is cruel just for the sake of it. What he wants is control and the way he usually gets it is through fear. He doesn't feel joy in hurting me, so he only does it when it benefits him.</p><p>He also doesn't intend to let some john fuck me into an early grave, but I don't think I'm that close to death yet. At least ten more johns or so would have to make an effort, I think.</p><p>The john now entering the room is an easy one. He's a little nervous and brimming with excitement. His wishes don't go beyond pounding into a hole, I doubt he has one creative bone in his body.</p><p>All I have to do is spread my legs for him and let him fuck me into the mattress.</p><p> </p><p>When he's done with me, I'm floating in different spheres, my mind completely detached from my body. The bed seems to be made of fluffy clouds and I let my eyes flutter shut, finally reaching that state of not thinking anything anymore.</p><p>“Darling?“</p><p>I blink, but my eyelids keep fluttering shut again.</p><p>“Oh, darling. You don't look so good.“</p><p>I think it's Aquaria that is scurrying over. Only she calls me darling. I never told her that I secretely really like it, because I can count the johns who did it on one hand, so the petname isn't spoiled yet.</p><p>“Draco, I need you to stay awake, alright?“</p><p>Gentle, but strong hands are touching me and I don't move. </p><p>“I'll get you some water.“</p><p>It seems to me like she'd be away only for a split second. The gentle hands are smoothing down my hair, then holding up my neck as she puts a glass to my lips. I shouldn't make her do that. She must be exhausted, too.</p><p>I take a few sips for her sake, then let my head loll back.</p><p>“Darling, are you on something?“</p><p>“No,“ I murmur.</p><p>I don't really know what's wrong with me. I guess I just haven't slept in... a while, not eaten very much either. And the gentle johns are rare and few among the brutal ones.</p><p>“I think I'll have to puke spunk. Is that possible, to get spunk in your stomach from too much buggering? Or am I just going crazy?“</p><p>The hand on my shoulder quivers.</p><p>“I told you to wait,“ Aquaria says and suddenly, her voice is so sharp that I flinch.</p><p>I pry my eyes open, confused and scared.</p><p>“Aquaria, what...“</p><p>“Oh my god, Draco.“</p><p>My head starts spinning. I know that voice and I <em>love</em> that voice. But it shouldn't be here. It doesn't belong here.</p><p>Green eyes are suddenly finding mine. I can't bear looking at them, so I close my eyes and pretend I don't exist. I excel in that discipline, so it doesn't take me much at all.</p><p>“What's wrong with him? Jesus, Draco...“</p><p>Another pair of gentle hands is touching my shoulder.</p><p>“We need to get him to a healer.“</p><p>“No, he doesn't want that.“</p><p>I miss how the conversation continues, because I'm swallowed by blackness.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Ron's presence in the kitchen as I'm making tea is a silent accusation.</p><p>“Say it, mate. If it helps.“</p><p>Ron doesn't need me asking twice.</p><p>“Look, I kept his secret for you, because, okay, his life is shit. But I really don't want Draco Malfoy camping in my flat.“</p><p>“It's our flat, Ron. And it's not like he's sleeping in your bed.“</p><p>I take the kettle from the stove and pour tea into my favorite mug. After a moment of consideration, I add a splash of milk and a lot of sugar.</p><p>Draco likes hot chocolate, afterall.</p><p>“I don't like having him sleep in your bed, either.“</p><p>“Yeah, well, you don't get to decide about that.“</p><p>Ron huffs and I take the mug and enter my bedroom more timidly than I ever have before.</p><p>Draco stirs as I set the mug down on my nighstand. He's blinking, moving, groaning.</p><p>“Hey, Draco.“</p><p>The Slytherin slowly opens his eyes. Grey-blue finds mine.</p><p>“Harry?“</p><p>A smile spreads on my face. I could get used to this. Hearing Draco say my name. Definitely.</p><p>“Feel any better?“</p><p>I can tell he's trying to piece his memory together.</p><p>“What happened?“ he asks, trying to sit up. </p><p>I help him, then let go of his arm and sit on the edge of the bed.</p><p>“I came by the club this morning and spoke to Aquaria. I wanted to see you.“</p><p>“You came by the club to see me?“</p><p>“I hoped you'd be off by then.“</p><p>“I was,“ he murmurs. </p><p>Quietly, without meeting my gaze, he asks: “Did you see?“</p><p>I did and I will never forget the image of Draco lying on his bed, spread out like a doll someone tossed on the trash heap. I'm not sure if my cleaning spells managed to vanish all of the blood and other substanced clinging to his skin.</p><p>“Yes,“ I say.</p><p>Draco rests his head against the headboard of my bed and closes his eyes.</p><p>“Why did you come? It's been a month.“</p><p>“I'll tell you, after you've drank something and maybe showered. I can make you some food too. Are you hungry?“</p><p>Draco shakes his head.</p><p>“What time is it?“</p><p>“Around five, I guess.“</p><p>“In the evening?“</p><p>“Yeah. You were out for quite a while.“</p><p>Draco rubs his face.</p><p>“Was... did Serpent see you take me? Is he mad?“</p><p>I clench my jaw and try to fight the urge to apparate straight to the club and kill that arsehole.</p><p>“No. Your shift was over when I arrived.“</p><p>He nods.</p><p>“Do you want to take a shower now?“</p><p>Draco hesitates, one hand fisted in the covers.</p><p>“I could just leave. I don't want to bother you.“</p><p>I give him an <em>are-you-kidding-me</em> look.</p><p>“Okay, fine.“</p><p>He takes a peak under the blanket. Aquaria helped me get him into some pants yesterday.</p><p>“I can give you clothes of mine, for now,“ I say.</p><p>“Thank you.“</p><p>He pushes the covers away and swings his legs out of the bed. They tremble before they even hit the ground.</p><p>“Do you need help?“</p><p>“I'm fine.“</p><p>But he isn't. I catch him when he stumbles and when I finally have my arms wrapped around his warm body, it's hard to let go. But I do anyway and let him lean on me, walking him to the bathroom.</p><p>“If you need anything...“</p><p>I hover in the doorframe, feeling strangely self-conscious.</p><p>“I'm good. Honestly,“ Draco says and with that, I leave him to his own devices.</p><p>I return to the living room, where Ron is planted on the sofa, glancing up at me.</p><p>“Do you really think it's a good idea to tell him today? He doesn't sound so good.“</p><p>“I don't think we can keep it from him much longer.“</p><p>Ron nods, accepting my choice without argument.</p><p>I try to take a deep breath. The prospect of hurting Draco even more than he already is, terrifies me. But if I were him, I'd want to know. He has a right to, afterall.</p><p>“Can you explain to me again why we're suddenly helping him? He's still Malfoy, isn't he?“</p><p>There is a faint hint of desperation colouring Ron's voice and I try not to get mad because I know Ron has every reason to complain. Afterall, I still can't fully explain why I care so much to even myself.</p><p>Except that I know Draco is different now. And maybe, I've never really seen him for who he truly was, not really. Of course, he's done some horrible things and I won't forget he has. But I'm beginning to question how much of a choice he really had. I'm not one to think that the right thing to do being hard would serve as an excuse not to do it anyway. Afterall, I had to make some pretty damn hard choices myself.</p><p>But if you can only choose between the murder of your family or obeying a psychopath, I know what I would choose.</p><p>“I think he's changed. And he needs us.“</p><p>Ron gives me a long, hard look.</p><p>“I trust you. So I'll let you handle this. But I won't pretend I've forgiven him for anything. And if it comes down to it if it's him or me going down, it'll be him.“</p><p>I sit down next to Ron.</p><p>“I wouldn't ask you to risk your career by helping him.“</p><p>“But you already do! We're currently hosting a fucking Knockturn whore. A wandless Ex-Death-Eater. What do you think the department will think about that?“</p><p>“It's not a crime to help someone in need, Ron.“</p><p>The ginger snorts and shakes his head.</p><p>“You sound like Hermione.“</p><p>Before I can react to that frightening statement, a slender figure with pale hair and even paler skin appears in the doorframe.</p><p>“Hey,“ I say, getting up.</p><p>Draco's eyes dart from me to Ron. His fingers are fidgeting and he pulls the sleeves of my jumper over his knuckles.</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt,“ he says.</p><p>“You're not.“</p><p>Ron stays silent.</p><p>“I'll leave. But... you wanted to tell me something?“</p><p>Draco smelling like my shampoo and looking like he'd have just crawled out of my bed – which he <em>has</em>, Merlin help me – is quite distracting.</p><p>But the news I have to deliver sober me instantly.</p><p>“Yes, um... I thought it would be better if someone told you before you read it in the Prophet.“</p><p>Draco's eyes flicker. </p><p>“What is it?“</p><p>I bite my lip and say: “Your father is dead. He passed away in Azkaban, almost two days ago now.“</p><p>It should have been impossible, but Draco pales even further. His skin looks almost translucent.</p><p>“I'm sorry.“</p><p>Draco looks to the side and I notice that his lashes are dark at the root and blond at the tip. It's probably wrong to notice something like this right now, but that small detail seems to take over my whole mind.</p><p>“Don't say that. You hated him.“</p><p>I blink, trying to regain my focus and quickly sober as I see the distress in Draco's face.</p><p>“I did, but he was still your father. And I'm sorry for your loss.“</p><p>Draco doesn't say anything for a while.</p><p>“Thank you.“</p><p>Behind us, I can hear Ron getting up.</p><p>“I won't say I'm sorry, because I'm really not.“</p><p>Draco's eyes dart over his face, then he looks down.</p><p>“I didn't expect you to.“</p><p>Ron keeps looking at Draco with a gaze that is hard to decipher, even for me.</p><p>“Do you have a place to stay?“</p><p>For a brief moment, Draco's eyes flick up, but then he resumes staring at his feet.</p><p>“I do.“</p><p>“Aside that... whorehouse, I mean. Like, a real place.“</p><p>Draco nods, his face a blank, shuttered mask.</p><p>“I live with my mother.“</p><p>His sick mother. The main reason why he's allowing strangers to abuse his body and his soul.</p><p>“Do you... I bet telling her won't be easy,“ I say, hesitantly.</p><p>I wish I could help, but I wouldn't know how. Narcissa Malfoy probably wouldn't appreciate my presence in her home.</p><p>Draco's jaw locks, then he says: “I won't tell her.“</p><p>“Are you – are you sure?“</p><p>The blond finally looks at me. His eyes seem more grey than blue today and very, very tired. The fatigue caused by a lifetime of suffering is snuffing out the brightness in them.</p><p>“Thinking of my father's return to us is what keeps her breathing, I believe. So, yes. I am sure.“</p><p>“Your mother's sick?“ Ron asks, arm crossed.</p><p>Draco nods. Then he takes a breath and turns fully to Ron.</p><p>“I understand if you don't care about my words, but I... beg you not to tell your colleagues or friends about my profession. Or where to find me. It would almost certainly mean the end of me and my mother needs me. She doesn't have anyone else.“</p><p>Draco swallows, then adds: “I'll also have you know that I will talk about your brother's addiction should you disclose any information about me.“</p><p>The silence in the room is ringing in our ears, until Ron finally speaks.</p><p>“Merlin's balls, Ferret. I'm not sixteen anymore. I have plenty better to do than sell your arse out. You seem to do just fine in that regard on your own.“</p><p>I shoot Ron a glare, but my friend meets it unimpressed and turns around, heading toward his bedroom.</p><p>“Sorry about that.“</p><p>Draco's face doesn't betray any kind of emotion.</p><p>“No need to be sorry. It's the truth.“</p><p>He straightens his spine and looks at me.</p><p>“Thank you for your help, Harry. Genuinely. But I'd really wish you wouldn't come looking for me again.“</p><p>“What... you want to go back to – to that place?“</p><p>I stare at him, not quite believing what he seems to be implying.</p><p>“Of course I will. My mother is still ill and I am still a Malfoy fallen from grace.“</p><p>“You almost died yesterday.“</p><p>My voice is catching.</p><p>“No, I didn't. I've been there before.“</p><p>“And that's supposed to be an argument for going back?“</p><p>My magic is crackling around us and Draco takes a tiny step back.</p><p>“I have nowhere else to go!“</p><p>“Yes you do!“</p><p>I take his hands and squeeze them a little too tight.</p><p>“Stay here. Stay with me. We'll figure it out.“</p><p>Arctic eyes are fixed on mine. The voice speaking isn't exactly cool, but it's clear of any emotion.</p><p>“Do you want to fuck me? Is that it?“</p><p>The breath leaves my lungs. But I'm a Gryffindor, so I lift my chin.</p><p>“And what if I did?“</p><p>Draco pulls his hands away.</p><p>“You'll find someone else. I'm not the only pretty boy around. I'm sure there are many you wouldn't even have to pay for.“</p><p>My heart slams against my ribcage. My inside scream in agony.</p><p>“I want more than just that. I want – I like you.“</p><p>Draco shakes his head. His features harden.</p><p>“No, you don't. You're attracted to me and that's it.“</p><p>“No, that's not -“</p><p>“Yes, it is. I'm a whore, Potter. People pay to fuck me and that's all I am. All I do. You don't like me, because there is nothing to like about me. Not for someone like you.“</p><p>My voice is shaking and so are my hands.</p><p>“Don't tell me what I feel.“</p><p>“You can stop trying to save me. There is nothing worth saving anymore.“</p><p>He pushes past me, but I follow him. I can't let him go.</p><p>“Draco, that's insane. Stay with me, please. You can't go back to that place.“</p><p>“I can and I will. I'm going back to my mother and then I'm going back to that place, where I earn the money I need for making a living.“</p><p>I grab his hand, panic cursing through me.</p><p>“Please don't.“</p><p>Very gently, Draco pulls his hand away. His eyes find mine.</p><p>“You're a good person, Harry. You deserve the best.“</p><p>Before I can open my mouth and tell him that it's him that I want, that I think he is the best, Draco continues.</p><p>“And you need to understand when someone doesn't need your saving. I don't need you to be my hero. So just let me go.“</p><p>His voice is breaking on the last word and I know, I know with a bone deep certainty, that he doesn't want to leave me. He wants me like I want him.</p><p>And yet he walks away, softly closing the door behind him and I'm left alone in my flat, alone with Ron who stands in the living room and regards me with compassion and confusion and traces of anger.</p><p>I lean my back against the door, my vision kind of blurry.</p><p>“He's gone,“ I say. “And I don't think he's coming back.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I trudge through the snow coating the way to my shabby flat, shaking, hands shoved into my pockets. It's day forty-one past Harry, meaning Christmas is long gone and no one wants any snow anymore, but it's falling almost daily anyway.</p><p>I fumble for my key, my fingers frozen and useless, when I hear steps behind me. I just manage to turn around when someone grabs me, slams me against the door I failed to open and slip through in time.</p><p>The tip of a wand is pressed against my throat. Dark, hungry, vaguely familiar eyes are gazing into mine.</p><p>“Hey, Malfoy.“</p><p>“Let go of me.“</p><p>I try pushing against the man's chest, but he doesn't budge. He's strong and he has a wand and I'm, as always, completely helpless. </p><p>I think he's fucked me before, which sends my heartbeat into overdrive, because it gives me an idea of why he's here.</p><p>“Oh, come on. Don't pretend you're not gagging for it.“</p><p>“I'm off work,“ I press through grit teeth.</p><p>The man, younger than most of my johns, fastens his grip on my shirt.</p><p>“I tried seeing you at work. But apparently, they don't allow Aurors in. Pity.“</p><p>My eyes widen in shock.</p><p>“You're an Auror?“</p><p>“Newly appointed, yes indeed. Unfortunately, I wasn't made aware that this shithole didn't allow Aurors in. So I thought I'd have to catch you elsewhere.“</p><p>“Please,“ I say, blood thrumming in my ears.</p><p>My mother is only two floor above us. My mother, who likes her window open, even when it's bitterly cold outside.</p><p>“Not here.“</p><p>“Why, yes. Or we could go inside your flat. Your choice.“</p><p>My stomach churns.</p><p>“I thought so.“</p><p>Before I can protest, I'm dragged behind the dumpsters around the house. Broad, rough hands force me to my knees. My pants are shoved down, the stink of trash in my nose.</p><p>I try to calm down. Just another john. Just one more, then I can go home.</p><p>But the ground under my legs is so cold and the hands pushing me until I fall onto my hands, scraping them on the asphalt, are brutal.</p><p>“Do you know why I became an Auror?“</p><p>I can barely shake my head. The familiar sound of the unfastening of a fly warns me what's to come.</p><p>Strong, bruising hands grab my hips roughly and then I'm torn in two, ripped apart by a cock forcing its way inside me. </p><p>There is nothing for me to bite on, so I have to scream. </p><p>“I became an Auror, because your father,“ another punishing thrust draws a keening cry from my throat, “killed my little sister. In front of my eyes. After handing her to your werewolf.“</p><p>Tears are running down my cheeks, dripping on my blue, bloody hands. I think I can hear something else, a familiar voice shouting, but I pray that it's just my mind playing tricks on me.</p><p>“Do you know what he did to her?“</p><p>I think the man that's not really just another john, is crying too. But before the thought can fully form in my mind, my hips are pulled back once more. Pulled back roughly and I feel my insides tear apart.</p><p>“He raped her. She was twelve years old, and he raped her until she didn't even seem to recognize me when she looked at me. All because my father had refused to take the mark.“</p><p>My head is pushed down without warning, forehead hitting the ground. For a moment, I think he's knocked me out, but I don't get that lucky.</p><p>I don't lift my head again. All my muscles have disappeared. I'm nothing but a vessel.</p><p>I miss when he comes and pulls out, maybe he didn't at all, but at some point, I find myself in a huddle on the ground.</p><p>“I'll come back for you. I'll make you hurt, like she hurt.“</p><p>The whispered words draw a shudder from me, but I don't move.</p><p>I have no way of knowing for how long I'm lying behind the dumpster, immobile, my brain brought to an abrupt and complete stop. Only when slowly, faint cries are pervading the fog, I twitch.</p><p>It takes me a moment to realize that it's my mother who's crying.</p><p>I scramble upright, not feeling my fingers, barely able to pull up my pants and knowing I'll bleed through them soon enough, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I get to my mother who is now making sounds as if she'd be choking.</p><p>Somehow, I manage to make my legs work, manage to ram the key into the lock and then stumble up the stairs and into the flat my mother is dying in.</p><p>“Mother!“ </p><p>I find her in her bed, the window open, gasping for air.</p><p>“Mother, it's alright, I'm here.“</p><p>But she doesn't see me. Doesn't hear me.</p><p>I know I have to get someone for help, but the only way of doing that without a wand are owls, and our owl doesn't seem to be here. I also don't think I could even hold a quill right now.</p><p>“Help,“ I scream, even though I know no one will come.</p><p>But I'm wrong.</p><p>With a pop, three men appear in my mother's bedroom. I stare at them, blinking.</p><p>One, I know. It's Weasley, who's staring at me just as shocked as I'm staring at him.</p><p>A tall, dark haired man steps forward.</p><p>“You reported an assault?“</p><p>His eyes dart to my mother. I flinch under his gaze.</p><p>“My mother needs a healer,“ I whisper. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ron! Ron, what the fuck -“</p><p>I storm into the interrogation room, only to stop dead in my tracks. Ron, Dawson and Parker, an older Auror with salt and pepper hair, are all standing around a table no one else but Draco is sitting at.</p><p>“Was it really necessary to call him?“ Dawson asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “The case doesn't need four people working it at once.“</p><p>Ron glares at him and chooses not to answer.</p><p>I only have eyes for Draco. He's sitting with his back to me, shoulders hunched. He must have heard my voice, but still, he doesn't turn around.</p><p>“What's going on?“</p><p>“Mrs. Malfoy is in St. Mungo's. It's... not looking good,“ Parker fills me in, his gaze sweeping over the unmoving Slytherin in front of him.</p><p>“And Malfoy here won't talk,“ Dawson says.</p><p>“I have.“</p><p>Draco's voice shoots right through me, ripping open all the wounds that were just barely beginning to heal.</p><p>“No, you haven't,“ Ron says, surprisingly gently.</p><p>Parker looks at me.</p><p>“Mrs. Malfoy reported that her son was being assaulted. Per owl, since she doesn't have a wand.“</p><p>My stomach churns and I stride around the table, trying to look at Draco. He won't lift his gaze, but what I see of his face is enough to give me nightmares.</p><p>“An assault?“</p><p>“Yes. But Mr. Malfoy claims that no such thing has happened.“</p><p>All eyes are on Draco.</p><p>“That's correct,“ he says.</p><p>He's still not looking at me and I want to scream.</p><p>“She was probably hallucinating,“ Dawson says, not in a cruel manner. “She's quite ill.“</p><p>“Dr- Malfoy? Is that true?“</p><p>I think Ron is glancing at me, but Draco keeps on avoiding my eyes.</p><p>“I assume so, yes.“</p><p>Finally, he looks up, but not at me. </p><p>“May I leave now, sir? I need to be with my mother.“</p><p>Parker's bushy brows are knitted together.</p><p>“You may. But, Mr. Malfoy – if you want to return later, maybe continue this conversation, you're very welcome to.“</p><p>I never noticed Parker much, but right now, my respect for the bloke exceeds the respect I have for everyone else in the department, aside Ron.</p><p>Draco just nods curtly.</p><p>“You may go, then. Weasley, show him to the floos. He doesn't need to take the bus to St. Mungo's.“</p><p>“Yes, sir.“</p><p>Draco gets up and I don't miss how wobbly his legs are. Neither does Ron.</p><p>“Come on, Ferret,“ I hear him mutter under his breath.</p><p>I follow them out of the room, heading toward the atrium.</p><p>“Draco? Are you alright?“</p><p>I touch his shoulder and he flinches so hard that he almost bumps into Ron.</p><p>My friend and I share an alarmed look.</p><p>“I'm fine. I just really need to see my mother.“</p><p>“We'll be there in a sec,“ Ron says and never have I ever heard him speak in such a manner to Draco. Whatever his opinion on the Slytherin might be, right now, all</p><p>Ron seems to see is a person in desperate need for some help.</p><p>We reach the floos and with every step we take, my worry grows. Accompanied by confusion and a touch of anger. </p><p>I haven't seen Draco in more than a month, and now he shows up looking like he's got caught in a hurricane and spit out in the desert.</p><p>“Draco, where are the bruises on your face from?“</p><p>“Rough client,“ he says dismissively and my stomach churns.</p><p>“Do floos work without a wand?“ I ask Ron, trying to shake the horror creeping into my bones.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.“</p><p>The ginger turns to Draco, holding out a little box filled with grey powder, rougher and less glittery than Dreamscales.</p><p>“You want to go first?“</p><p>Without answering, Draco takes a handful of the powder and throws them into the flames.</p><p>“St. Mungo's,“ he says and steps into the fire.</p><p>The second he's gone, Ron's eyes find mine.</p><p>“I'll eat a fucking broomstick if nothing happened to Ferret.“</p><p>I nod, my throat dry.</p><p>“Yeah. Count me in.“</p><p>I reach into the box and fling some of the powder into the fireplace.</p><p>“See you at St. Mungos.“</p><p>Prickling warmth engulfes me, the atrium vanishes and I follow Draco.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa Malfoy has been brought into a ward for the chronically ill and it takes us a while to get hold of a healer. The Malfoy doesn't seem to be first priority in here.</p><p>“We had to put her under a stasis charm,“ a rushed healer with pink hair explains to us. “She's very weak.“</p><p>“What does that mean?“ Draco asks, his eyes darting over the healer's face.</p><p>They give him a second of their undivided attention, which means things are probably bad.</p><p>“Nothing is certain yet, but I would prepare myself for the possibility of her not waking up again at all,“ they say, not quite gently.</p><p>“Thank you,“ Ron says because Draco is swaying on his feet. </p><p>I reach out and touch his elbow, trying to steady him as gently as I can.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>The Slytherin's lashes flutter.</p><p>I guide him to the next available seat, even though that earns me an annoyed look from an elderly witch dragging her feet down the corridor, her cane clonking on the floor.</p><p>“Hey,“ I say, dying to touch the Slytherin. “She'll be fine.“</p><p>“You can't know that.“</p><p>His voice sounds distant. Hoarse.</p><p>Tentatively, I lift my hand to touch his shoulder, but he shys away.</p><p>“Draco, what happened?“</p><p>“Nothing,“ he says.</p><p>“Don't be daft. It's obviously not nothing.“</p><p>For the first time today, Draco looks at me. I stop breathing at the death inside his eyes.</p><p>“After ten others, the last man was a little much. But I'm a whore so it's fine because it's my job. Satisfied?“</p><p>I wonder if Draco can see the pain he's causing me. Maybe he does, because he quickly looks away again. Ron puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.</p><p>“You two can leave now. I know you don't give a shit about my mother.“</p><p>“Shut your stupid mouth, Ferret,“ Ron says calmly.</p><p>He pulls his hand away.</p><p>“I'll get some water and then we'll get you home.“</p><p>“I can't go home. I have to be here when she wakes up.“</p><p>“They'll notify us,“ I assure him, but Draco just glares at me.</p><p>“I don't have a fucking wand, Potter. No one will notify me.“</p><p>I swallow.</p><p>“You can still recieve owls. Plus,<em> I</em> have a wand. I'll tell them to alert me.“</p><p>“I'm not coming home with you,“ Draco says.</p><p>“Yes, you are.“</p><p>“No.“</p><p>“I'm not asking, Draco.“</p><p>The Slytherin swallows and looks down, at his knees. At the darkened fabric on his knees. Darkened by blood?</p><p>“I see,“ he says.</p><p>“Only for tonight, I'm not. You look like absolute hell and you need to rest. If you feel better tomorrow, you can leave <em>again</em> and never talk to me <em>again</em>.“</p><p>My voice is bitter, I know, but I don't particularly care to soften it. Draco seems dead set on hurting me, so I guess he'll be glad he succeeded.</p><p>I think I can sense pale eyes on me, but this time, I'm looking away.</p><p>“Alright.“</p><p>I swallow thickly, watching two elderly men waddling down the corridor, leaning on each other. One is wearing nothing but a hospital gown.</p><p>“Good, then.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>After making sure three times that I'll be given notice the minute my mother's condition changes, I allow Harry to side-along me back to his flat.</p><p>I'm shivering as we enter and now that the adrenalin starts to vanish from my bloodstream, the pains in my body are almost impossible to ignore.</p><p>“Could I use your bathroom?“ I choke out.</p><p>Harry looks at me worriedly.</p><p>“Yeah, of course. You can shower, anything you want.“</p><p>He's insane for still being so nice to me. I've been nothing but an arsehole toward him. Plus, of course, I'm a whore. Not really someone to deserve niceties.</p><p>I stumble into the bathroom. There is a bath tub that I'd love to soak in, but I don't want to overstep, so I turn on the large shower with trembling hands.</p><p>It's obvious that this bathroom is only used by blokes. There are not much tubes and creams stacked on the shelf, but three different aftershaves are competing for the spotlight. I wonder if it's Harry or Weasley who has a thing for aftershaves.</p><p>I peel my filthy clothes off, wincing. I don't know what I'm supposed to wear when I'm clean again. Especially my trousers are soaked with blood. Tears are running down my cheeks, burning on the scratches, but I ignore them. I stagger into the shower and turn the temperature up, trying to burn the foulness out of my body. </p><p>Standing under the hot stream, I bow my head, staring at my bony feet. The water whirling around them is brownish red. Black dots are dancing in front of my vision, so I sit down, tuck my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Sitting hurts, but so does standing, and this way, I probably won't crack my skull in case I faint.</p><p>Without my permission, sobs are escaping my throat. I hide my face in my arms and let the water drown out all other noises.</p><p>When I leave the shower, I find a plushy towel and a set of fresh, too big clothes on the closed toilet lid.</p><p>I dry myself and then realize I've gotten blood all over the towel. Another sob wreaks my body, as I clutch the towel, not knowing what to do. I could try and clean it, but I know I won't get the blood out, not completely.</p><p>Wiping at my cheeks, I throw on the sweatpants that threatens to fall off my hips and the jumper, which looks baggy on me. I realize how sad that is – Harry isn't taller than I am. I'm simply a walking sceleton.</p><p>I bury the soiled towel in the bottom of the hamper, then try straightening my spine and walking out of the bathroom with my head held high. I manage to keep it up for approximitely two seconds, before I run into Weasley. My insides clench and I duck my head. Weasley hates me too. I've always been such a git toward him. My father is the reason why his little sister almost died in the Chamber of Secrets.</p><p>My breathing becomes wrecked. </p><p><em>Not right now</em>, I pray. I don't think I could take it.</p><p>Pathetic, for sure. A whore that can't take a bit of buggery.</p><p>“Relax, Malfoy. I just wanted to ask if you want some food. Harry made pasta.“</p><p>I swallow and shake my head, the remember my manners.</p><p>“No, thank you.“</p><p>“Look...“</p><p>I hold my breath. Try bracing myself for anything Weasley might dish out. For more punishing hands on my body.</p><p>“We don't like each other, I know, but... my job is to protect people from bad guys. Including you. I mean, you're part of the people I protect.“</p><p>Weasley rubs his neck.</p><p>“Just... I just want you to know, you can talk to me. As an Auror or as... an allie, I guess. I'll take you seriously.“</p><p>I don't know what he's on about or what he wants me to say and I'm too tired to figure it out right now, so I just wrap my arms around my body and stay quiet, praying he'll leave me.</p><p>“Oh. Alright, then. You can sleep in Harry's room again.“</p><p>He leads me to the bedroom I know already, his steps heavy. While I slink into the room, he turns to go, to leave me. But before he closes the door, he says: “Stay as long as you need, Ferret.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I'm woken up in the grey hours of early morning, more by a feeling than actual noise. Draco can be very quiet when he tries to.</p><p>“Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.“</p><p>I blink my eyes open and push myself up. My neck hurts a little. The sofa is cozy, but it's not really meant to spend the night on.</p><p>“You didn't.“</p><p>Draco has his arms wrapped around him. In my oversized clothes and with his bare feet, he looks almost childlike.</p><p>“Are you hungry?“</p><p>He hesitates, then shrugs.</p><p>“I'll make some toast.“</p><p>I get up and cast a warming charm, since it's chilly at this hour.</p><p>“Tea?“</p><p>“Yes, please.“</p><p>I try not to stare at Draco while I busy my hands with making tea and toast. The clattering of china seems unnaturally loud at this hour.</p><p>“Here you go.“</p><p>I hand Draco the biggest mug we own and he unwraps his arms and clutches the cup.</p><p>My gaze lingers on him.</p><p>“Draco, do you need a healer?“ I blurt.</p><p>He shakes his head and lifts the mug. I want to reach out and brush back the loose strand of hair falling over his eyes, but I doubt my touch would be welcome, so I content myself with muttering some basic soothing charms under my breath. They won't really heal any wounds, but they should make him feel more comfortable.</p><p>He's obviously still in pain.</p><p>“Harry.“</p><p>My gaze zooms in on his face and my heart is going at 180 beats per minute.</p><p>“Yes?“</p><p>Faded grey eyes find mine.</p><p>“Thank you for doing this. Really. But – you don't need to. Honestly. I'm... fine on my own.“</p><p>I swallow down all the words I'd love to say, some of them yell, and force a crooked smile on my face.</p><p>“Don't sweat it.“</p><p>I take my own cup of tea and lean against the counter, looking at him.</p><p>“I want to be friends, Draco. Yeah? Please, just forget all the other stuff I said and let's be friends.“</p><p>His elegant throat moves as he swallows.</p><p>“Why would you want to be friends?“</p><p>I shrug and take a sip of tea that burns the roof of my mouth.</p><p>“Because I like your company. And you challenge me. And I fucking missed you those last weeks.“</p><p>I have to wait for agonizingly long minutes, until Draco finally responds.</p><p>“Alright. Then let's be friends.“</p><p>I smile and ache, not sure if I'm happy or destroyed – probably both – and get out two plates, dumping a slice of toast on each.</p><p>“Butter and jam?“</p><p>I turn around and arctic eyes follow me.</p><p>“Sounds brilliant.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I leave Harry's flat after breakfast and Harry shows me to the door. I can't help but linger, especially because his green eyes look so sad.</p><p>Part of me wants to fling myself into his arms. Cry and scream and beg him to protect me from the world. From my past and my present and all those many, many people that hate me.</p><p>But of course, I don't do any of that.</p><p>I do smile at him though. Despite everything, or maybe <em>because</em> of everything, I don't think I'm strong enough to push him out of my life again. It's wrong and mad, us together, but if he doesn't fight it, neither can I. Somehow, without me noticing, Harry has become the best thing in my sordid life, over night, like finding a piece of gold under your pillow that the tooth fairy put their while you were sleeping.</p><p>“I'll see you soon?“</p><p>His green eyes are unwavering and he keeps holding the door open, as if trying to beckon me back inside.</p><p>“Yes,“ I agree.</p><p>“Later today?“</p><p>“I don't think I have time.“</p><p>“Tomorrow, then?“</p><p>I exhale.</p><p>“Let's meet on Friday, shall we?“</p><p>“At the Leaky? Like we used to?“</p><p>His eyes are shining. I shrug and tilt my head.</p><p>“If you'd like to.“</p><p>“Sure, sounds good.“</p><p>I give him another faint smile and then turn around and leave him. He doesn't close the door until I'm out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>“My lovely?“</p><p>I wipe my face and try to calm myself, but there's nothing I can do about the violent shake that has my body in its grasp.</p><p>Serpent closes the door to my room behind him.</p><p>“I just spoke to your last client. He is very upset with you, dear. Very upset.“</p><p>“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, it's just... my mother, she -“</p><p>Serpent frowns and steps closer, sitting next to me on the big bed with the red covers. </p><p>“What about your mother?“</p><p>“She's ill. I think she might die, and I...“</p><p>“I'm really sorry about that, my lovely.“</p><p>His voice is soft and I can't help but shed a few more tears.</p><p>I'm rather sure it's not my mother who made me freak out just now with the john, but knowing she might die any day certainly didn't help, either.</p><p>“Look at me,“ Serpent says, his voice still soft.</p><p>I hiccup and do. Gentle fingers lift my chin.</p><p>“I understand that you're upset. But work and private life have to be kept separate, you know that, my lovely.“</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“Yes, I do. I'm really sorry, I -“</p><p>The fingers grip my chin so tightly now that I gasp.</p><p>“This won't happen again, <em>will it</em>?“</p><p>I can't speak, just manage a hinted shake of my head.</p><p>“I'm sure it won't. Because otherwise, you'll regret it very much. And we all hate having regrets, don't we?“</p><p>“Yes,“ I choke out, my heart racing.</p><p>“Very well, then.“</p><p>Serpent lets go of me and gets up, brushing imaginative dust from his trousers.</p><p>“You have thirty minutes to collect yourself, dear. I'm sure you'll make the next client very happy.“</p><p>“I will.“</p><p> </p><p>I'm late to the Leaky, because I'm rushing there from St. Mungo's and I'm so tired that I kept falling asleep on the bus and then missed my station. At least it's not snowing today. The sun shines bright and the air is so cold it cuts, but clear and fresh. I remember that I used to love these kind of winter days.</p><p>Right now, as I'm pushing the door to the pub open, all I notice though is the cold freezing my bones, numbing my wobbly legs.</p><p>“Sorry, I'm late,“ I breathe as I slide in the chair across from Harry.</p><p>The Gryffindor smiles at me and I try to return it, try blinking the blackness away that is coating the edges of my vision.</p><p>“All good. How's your mum?“</p><p>I pull the sleeves of my coat over my fingers before I answer.</p><p>“Unchanged. So, not too well.“</p><p>“I'm sorry.“</p><p>So am I, but what does it matter? I shrug lightly and wish the room would stop spinning.</p><p>“I've never asked you, Draco – how do you get into Diagon Alley? I mean, don't you need a wand for that?“</p><p>I focus on Harry's question and take a breath, hoping the oxygen will banish the weakness in my body.</p><p>“I got a little chip to get through all kinds of magical wards.“</p><p>Harry's brows lift.</p><p>“I didn't know such thing existed.“</p><p>“Well.“</p><p>I shrug and smile and am afraid I'll have to throw up. My stomach is churning. The lights are too bright.</p><p>“Are you okay?“</p><p>“Just tired.“</p><p>Green eyes are studying my face and I don't know why that makes me feel like crying.</p><p>“You look like you haven't slept in days.“</p><p>“Sounds about right,“ I say before I catch myself. Trying to gloss it over, I add: “It's just, with my mother and working at night... it hasn't been easy.“</p><p>That is the understatement of the year.</p><p>“I think you should be sleeping instead of hanging out with me.“</p><p>I bite my lip.</p><p>“I'm sorry for being bad company.“</p><p>“Don't be silly.“</p><p>Harry gets up and holds his hand out for me.</p><p>“I can apparate you home.“</p><p>“No!“</p><p>My exclaim startles us both. </p><p>More calmly now, I say: “I don't like being in my flat. It's like I'm seeing my mother everywhere.“</p><p>Not just my mother. But also a man that hates me more than most. A man with brutal hands that promised to come back for me.  I shiver at the thought.</p><p>“Then come to mine. You can sleep there.“</p><p>My mouth opens.</p><p>“Harry...“</p><p>“I'll study. Or read or something. You can have the room to yourself, if you want to.“</p><p>I should say no. It's wrong, letting Harry help me out again and again, while giving nothing in return.</p><p>But the room is spinning and for once, all I want is to say yes. So I do.</p><p>“Alright.“</p><p> </p><p>“Ron is still at work. He'll only drop by anyway. It's pub night,“ Harry says as I stumble after him into his flat.</p><p>“Just kick me out when you want to leave.“</p><p>“Nah, I'll stay in.“</p><p>I don't have the energy to fight him on this, so I let myself be led into the bedroom, toeing off my shoes. The big bed is calling for me. I'm so exhausted, I can't even be bothered to worry about how it might seem to climb in bed in front of Harry. Honestly, if a shag is the price of a couple hours of undisturbed sleep, I'll take it.</p><p>“Do you need anything?“</p><p>The room is spinning faster and faster as I crawl under the blanket.</p><p>“No. Thank you.“</p><p>“Okay, I'll...“</p><p>I don't hear the end of Harry's sentence, because I'm already fast asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>The hand on my shoulder is gentle, but I startle anway. My eyes burn as I open them and my head is aching. I haven't slept nearly enough.</p><p>“Hm?“</p><p>Harry is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at me.</p><p>“I've cooked dinner. Do you want some?“</p><p>I'm all ready to shake my head, when it clicks in my foggy brain. My eyes widen.</p><p>“Dinner? What time is it?“</p><p>“Past eight.“</p><p>“Oh, fuck.“</p><p>I scramble into a sitting position, ignoring my body weeping in agony. I should really be used to all the pains right now. It seems like they're here to stay.</p><p>“You can eat in bed, if you want,“ Harry says as I swing my legs out of bed.</p><p>“No, I have to go.“</p><p>Go back to the club, I mean. Just the thought makes me shake, but I can't be late. Not under any circumstances.</p><p>“Seriously?“</p><p>Harry catches my wrist as I try to stagger to the door.</p><p>“Draco, you can barely walk. You can't really want to work tonight.“</p><p>“I have to. I'm – I'll lose my job if I don't.“</p><p>I might lose it anyway and just thinking about it has me on the verge of tears again.</p><p>Harry's face betrays his opinion that it really wouldn't be such a bad thing if I lost my job, but fortunately, he doesn't press the matter. Instead, he gets up and takes my shoulder. His hands are gentle, but firm.</p><p>“You can't work tonight, Draco. You're sick.“</p><p>I blink at him and his eyes widen as tears are rolling down my cheeks.</p><p>“You don't understand. He'll punish me if I don't come in. Maybe he'll sack me. I can't risk it.“</p><p>I wriggle out of his hold, even though it's the last thing I want to do and head over to the door. I almost faint as I bend over to put my shoes on, but I soldier through the fit and get up with shoes on my feet and a quite blurry vision.</p><p>“I can't make you stay?“ Harry asks.</p><p>I shake my head and leave the room.</p><p>“Okay. Then I'm coming with you.“</p><p>Harry is next to me in a heartbeat.</p><p>“What?“</p><p>I stare at him.</p><p>“No, you're not. You're <em>not</em>.“</p><p>“If you don't stay here, I have to.“</p><p>Harry isn't a cruel person, I know that, but right now, he's hurting me worse than most of my johns.</p><p>“Please.“</p><p>“No discussion, Draco.“</p><p>“Serpent will have me booked already anyway.“</p><p>I fight the urge to throw up all over Harry's shoes. I can't think of the greedy men. I can't.</p><p>“Don't worry about it.“</p><p>If I don't leave now, I'll be late, so I let him come with me.</p><p>He side-alongs me to the club, meaning I'm actually early, not late. On the cobble stones in front of the shady establishment, I grab Harry's arm.</p><p>“Please, Harry. I don't want you to see me in there.“</p><p>The smile Harry gives me is calming.</p><p>“I already have. You've got nothing to hide anymore.“</p><p>I have plenty to hide, but I don't argue the point.</p><p>“If you're being a stupid, stubborn git, then I'll have to follow you.“</p><p>“I really wish you wouldn't,“ I say quietly and drop my hand along with my head.</p><p>“I don't believe that.“</p><p>Since I have no answer to this, I turn around and head to the club. Harry is at least quick-witted enough not to accompany me inside. If he did, it would look to Serpent like I was trying to coerce Harry into stealing me from all my other clients.</p><p>The thought of Harry as a client makes me stop for one minute. I turn around.</p><p>Harry raises his brows at me as I come back to him.</p><p>“Changed your mind?“</p><p>“I don't want you to buy me.“</p><p>I don't know what's wrong with me today. I'm crying again and I'm horrified. Mortified. But it seems like there is nothing I can do about it.</p><p>“Oh, Draco. I'm not. I'm just paying off all those other assholes.“</p><p>“No. No, you're buying me.“</p><p>Harry wipes my tears away and cups my face in his strong, calloused hands.</p><p>“You can pay me back then, okay?“</p><p>“I don't even get most of the money.“</p><p>“See? I'm paying off arseholes. Nothing more.“</p><p>I realize that I won't win this argument, so I resign myself to the fate of never having a choice regarding my life and walk into the <em>Serpent's Den</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Serpent greets me and lets me know in his sweetest words that he expects me to be on my best behaviour again and not the whiny little cunt I was the last three nights and then sends me up to my room.</p><p>My heart is pounding. I don't know if I should get ready or not.</p><p>In the end, I decide to keep on my day clothes. I rather risk having a john ripping them off me and fouling them with his cum than Harry seeing me in my whore costumes again.</p><p>Maybe Serpent won't let him have me. He doesn't play favourites, not usually. It pisses off all the other johns. And he's already made an exception for Harry once.</p><p>He might not do it again.</p><p>Or maybe Harry changes his mind and realizes that he has better things to do than spending his night in a dirty room smelling of sweat and sex with a whore that forgot how to do their job.</p><p>To be fair, he doesn't know the last part.</p><p>A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts.</p><p>“Come in.“</p><p>My voice is shaky. Not at all alluring or anything even close to that.</p><p>Harry slips inside the room, closing the door behind me. His smile is easy and warm, as if we'd be meeting at the Leaky. But I'm overcome by a fresh surge of shame. Humiliation.</p><p>“I bet my own bed is more comfortable, but at least this one is huge,“ he says, crossing the room and sitting down next to me.</p><p>He doesn't touch me, but my heartbeat is kicking anyway. He bought me. At the club.</p><p>“Hey. Everything okay?“</p><p>Green, innoccent eyes gaze into my own used up ones.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>“You can sleep. I'll just – I guess I'll nap a little too.“</p><p>He hesitates when he sees my expression.</p><p>“I mean, I can sit on that chair, if you'd be more comfortable.“</p><p>I snort and everything, every cell of my body, hurts.</p><p>“Don't be silly. You didn't pay a heap of Galleons to sit on a chair.“</p><p>Harry's dark brows draw together.</p><p>“No, I paid them to keep this slimy Serpent git off your back.“</p><p>I swallow and then scoot up the bed, wordlessly. I lie down on my back, but my eyes won't close. My heart is still hammering.</p><p>How many times have I laid here like this, staring at the ceiling? I can almost feel the heavy body of a john on top of me, hear the pants, smell his breath.</p><p>I start shuddering and hide my face in the crook of my elbow.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>Fingers touch my arm, then quickly retreat.</p><p>I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.</p><p>“What's wrong?“</p><p>I make a choking sound and shake my head. My free hand is sliding over the disgusting covers until it bumps into something that might be a knee. I keep it there, unmoving. After a moment, fingers slip through mine.</p><p>I need something to hold on to. Harry. I need him to hold on to, or I'll simply float away.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>The name is a carress on my skin.</p><p>“Tell me what's wrong.“</p><p>I turn to my side so that he can't look at my face anymore, but don't let go of his hand, pulling it with me. He lies down behind me, one arm around my waist. He scoots closer until his warm chest touches my back.</p><p>“Is that okay?“ he whispers in my ear.</p><p>I nod and hold his hand so tightly that I'm sure I hurt him. </p><p>“Talk to me.“</p><p>“I'll lose my job,“ I say.</p><p>“Why?“</p><p>“Because I'm terrible at it. Lately.“</p><p>I think he's brushing his nose against my neck. I need him closer, need him to touch me, but at the same time, this is almost too much already.</p><p>“I'm a whore who can't...“</p><p>Who can't have sex without crying anymore.</p><p>It's like that one... incident robbed me of all my cool. Whenever a john touches me, even if it's not roughly, I'll start shivering. When they push inside me, I'm back on snowy ground and start crying.</p><p>Sometimes I manage to hide it. Sometimes I can't.</p><p>“Who can't...?“ Harry probes.</p><p>I shake my head. And then, as always, begin to cry.</p><p>“What happened, Draco? Did someone hurt you?“</p><p>“People always hurt me.“</p><p>A growl vibrates in Harry's chest and he pulls me closer.</p><p>“Let me help you.“</p><p>“You can't.“</p><p>I know he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue.</p><p>“You can sleep now. I'll protect you.“</p><p>I want to tell him how stupid it is to say that – he can't protect me, no one can – but my body betrays me and relaxes. It feels like he can, even though I know it's a lie.</p><p>A kiss is pressed into my hair.</p><p>“You're safe with me.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>It's not quite morning yet when Draco wakes up. The nightsky is only just morphing from pitch black into a faint grey.</p><p>The Slytherin in my arms stirs. Moans softly and stretches. I try my best to angle my hips away from his, so he won't know the effect he has on me.</p><p>He turns in my arms to look at me and the sight of his sleepy, but finally rested, beautiful eyes knocks the breath out of me.</p><p>“Slept well?“</p><p>Draco nods. Smiles at me.</p><p>“Thank you. For staying.“</p><p>“Anytime.“</p><p>He doesn't turn away. His eyes drop to my lips and without thinking about it, I lean in and brush my mouth over his. When he doesn't pull away, I increase the pressure and kiss him. It's sweet and innoccent, until Draco turns further in my arms, so that I find myself between his spread legs.</p><p>My tongue slips into his mouth and he opens it obediently. I'm rock-hard, pushing against him, my hand stroking all over his body, slipping under his shirt. When his hands find my fly, I'm afraid I might come from the first touch of his fingers on my cock.</p><p>“Would you be okay with a blow job?“ he asks me as his fingers slip under my waistband.</p><p>“Hm?“</p><p>It's hard to think when he's wrapping his hand around my cock.</p><p>“Oh, fuck.“</p><p>I push into his hand, mindlessly rubbing myself against his body.</p><p>“I'm very talented with my lips,“ he says in a seductive voice that's completely unlike his own. “I promise, you won't be missing anything.“</p><p>I pull back.</p><p>“What?“</p><p>Something I can't quite name because it's gone again so quickly crosses his face, before it transforms into a sultry smile again.</p><p>“I said I'd love to suck your cock.“</p><p>I pull back even further, rolling off of him. He gazes at me, at the frown on my face.</p><p>“Just a suggestion. Tell me what you want, handsome.“</p><p>Someone just dropped a bucket of ice water into my stomach.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>He reaches for my waistband again, but I push his hands away and sit up, my shoulders hunched, back to him.</p><p>Hands stroke over my neck, one resting on my shoulder.</p><p>“Did I say something wrong?“ Draco whispers.</p><p>I turn to face him.</p><p>“I'm sorry,“ I say.</p><p>“What for? Just tell me how you want me.“</p><p>“Not at all.“</p><p>Draco flinches, his hands drawing away.</p><p>“I mean,“ I hastily say, catching his hands. “Obviously, I want you. But not like this. Not here. Do you... do you even like me? I know we said we wanted to be friends.“</p><p>Draco's eyes are searching my face. They're pale. Haunted.</p><p>“I do like you. I'm sorry if I...“</p><p>My heart melts and aches and I know that I'm such an idiot.</p><p>“No, I am. I shouldn't have kissed you in here. This is... I'm not a client. You know that, right?“</p><p>Draco looks away.</p><p>“You paid.“</p><p>Now I flinch. My stomach turns.</p><p>“Do you really think that? Am I a client to you?“</p><p>Draco's eyes find mine again.</p><p>“No. But you – technically, you are one. So if you want to have me...“</p><p>I shake my head violently. </p><p>“No, I don't. Not when you're – only if you want to as well.“</p><p>“I do want to.“</p><p>I shake my head.</p><p>“I don't think you do.“</p><p>Draco looks down and clasps his hand in his lap.</p><p>“Hey. It's fine. It was my fault.“</p><p>“No, Harry.“</p><p>His voice is very soft. </p><p>“Can I hold you?“</p><p>I feel like I'll die if I don't. A terrifying feeling, but I don't care right now.</p><p>Slowly, Draco nods and I drape an arm around him. He stiffens for a moment, then scoots closer and leans into me.</p><p>“Do you want to tell me now what has got you so terrified?“</p><p>Draco sighs, one long, shuddering exhale.</p><p>“It doesn't matter.“</p><p>“It does to me.“</p><p>I lightly stroke his arm and feel him breathing, wishing to stay here with him forever.</p><p>“I'm just... off, lately. Is all.“</p><p>“How do you mean that?“</p><p>He's squirming lightly, then settling against me.</p><p>“I mean that I'm bad at fucking.“</p><p>The words are pressed out harshly. They're crude and I know he says it like that to push me away.</p><p>“Okay.“</p><p>“Okay?“</p><p>I take a couple deep, calming breaths.</p><p>“So this is why you said you'll lose your job? Because... you're afraid to have sex?“</p><p>“I never said I'm afraid.“</p><p>I tilt my head, searching his gaze until, finally, winter-grey eyes find mine. Shuttered. Sad.</p><p>“But I think that's what you meant.“</p><p>Draco just nods. His eyes widen, darting over my face, as I slip off the bed, kneeling to his feet.</p><p>“What are you doing?“</p><p>I clasp one of his hands in both of mine.</p><p>“Please, Draco. I beg you. Come with me. Let me <em>help</em> you.“</p><p>Draco bites his lip, shivering, but he doesn't look away.</p><p>“I can't. You're the Chosen One. I'm me. People would never accept it.“</p><p>“I don't give a fuck about people.“</p><p>“I don't want you to keep me as your personal whore.“</p><p>I flinch, but don't let him throw me.</p><p>“It wouldn't be like that. I'll help get you a job. I promise.“</p><p>He holds my gaze for a long time.</p><p>“You'll get tired of me. You'll kick me out eventually and then where will I be?“</p><p>“That won't happen. I promise, Draco.“</p><p>He keeps looking torn, not answering.</p><p>“I'm literally begging you on my knees,“ I say, flashing him a smile.</p><p>“You're crazy, is what you are.“</p><p>I shrug.</p><p>“So, will you come with me?“</p><p>Draco looks to the side. Back at me.</p><p>“Alright, Potter. I'll come with you. But when this ends up being the final downfall for me, I <em>will</em> say I told you so.“</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The floor is cold under my bare feet, but the woolen jumper I wear keeps me warm. I listen to the water in the kettle slowly beginning to boil, musing if I should make some tea for Harry as well or wait until he gets up. It's still early, the light clean and greyish, but Harry seems to have some kind of sixth sense telling him when I'm awake, no matter how quiet I'm trying to be.</p><p>Right before the kettle starts whistling, I take it off the stove and pour two mugs of hot, fruity tea. It was actually Weasley who introduced me to the world of different tea flavours. All my life, I've drank Earl Grey and Green Tea and two or three other kinds of herbals and missed out on the wonders of apple-cinammon tea.</p><p>“Morning.“</p><p>I look up. Harry is entering the room, wearing a pair of old sweats and a white T-Shirt. Paired with his puffy eyes and soft, sleepy smile, warmth is spreading through my chest.</p><p>He always announces his presence now before walking up to me, after he has startled me several times, making me jump and spill tea.</p><p>“Morning,“ I say and lean against the counter.</p><p>“That for me?“</p><p>Harry's eyes sparkle as I nod and push a cup of steaming tea into his direction. Before I lift my own, I roll my stiff neck.</p><p>As usually, Harry catches it and grimaces.</p><p>“You can really have my bed. I have no problem sleeping on the sofa.“</p><p>I throw him one of my <em>don't-be-daft </em>looks.</p><p>“It's your flat, Potter.“</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>“You live here, too, now.“</p><p>I have indeed, for a week now. I'm only just getting used to the luxury of Harry's huge bathroom, of the warmth and the food. And the absence of greedy men.</p><p>At first, I was unsure, suspicious of what might be expected of me if I took Harry's offer. Not like I'd have refused or thought it unfair if Harry or even Weasley wanted to shag me. But the fact that none of them has is a relief.</p><p>“Ron's gonna be up soon. He has to come in early for some meeting.“</p><p>“You don't?“</p><p>Harry scrubs a hand through his mop of messy hair and says: “Actually, I...“</p><p>He glances at me, green eyes bright and tinged with uncertainty.</p><p>“Yes?“</p><p>“I haven't told anyone yet, but I'll quit. The Aurors, I mean. I want to... do something else.“</p><p>I nod, not quite sure why he's so insecure about it.</p><p>“Alright. Do you already know what you want to do instead?“</p><p>“Not really. But I'm at it.“</p><p>He smiles at me and takes a sip from his tea. Under his eyes, I get self-conscious and start fidgeting.</p><p>“You'll be at St.Mungo's again today?“</p><p>“Yes, if that's alright with you?“</p><p>Sometimes I wonder if Harry minds that I'm gone so much. Maybe he'd prefer it if I stayed in the flat.</p><p>But the Gryffindor just regards me with a bemused look before reaching for a bowl and summoning some cereal and milk.</p><p>“Not like you'd need my permission, but, yeah. Sure that's alright with me.“</p><p>My eyes flicker to his face, then back to my tea. A faint groan and a door opening informs us that Weasley has joined the living – or maybe rather the inferi, since he needs an awful lot of time to fully wake up.</p><p>“I'm going to talk to Robards today. I'll be home for dinner. Will I see you, then?“</p><p>Harry's eyes are hopeful, as if I'd be a precious addition to his evening and I just give a slight nod.</p><p>“I'll see you later.“</p><p>He reaches out and brushes his fingers against the back of my hand. I give him a smile and he turns around, throwing on his coat and leaving the flat.</p><p> </p><p>My mother's face is pale and fragile, but the expression on it is almost peaceful. I'm never sure if that gives me hope or rather forces me to admit defeat.</p><p>I've sat next to her bed for three hours now, brushing her long, strawy hair and telling her stories in a low voice, hoping that, maybe, some of the words will reach her.</p><p>I always attract all sorts of stares, from healers, patients and visitors alike. Someone recognizes my pale head of hair every day, but there is nothing I can do about it. I need to be with my mother, so I try not to worry about the consequences of being seen in public. Not an easy task, after spending years in the shadows, hiding away. Roaming the wizarding world without a wand comes with a terrifying kind of vulnerability.</p><p>“Sweetie?“</p><p>The voice and a hand on my shoulder make me jump, drawing my shoulders up defensively.</p><p>A middle aged witch with laughter lines adorning her eyes and frizzy, grey streaked hair, smiles at me.</p><p>“Didn't mean to startle you. It's time for a little check-up. If you'd wait outside, please?“</p><p>“Sure.“</p><p>I scramble up and scurry out of the room. That witch is my favourite healer, but she is a stranger nonetheless and I don't do well with strangers, since... since.</p><p>Stepping out into the long, white corridor, I take a breath, trying to recollect myself, when someone grabs my wrist. This time, the touch isn't gentle at all.</p><p>I flinch, my head whipping around. My eyes find dark ones in a sharp, handsome face and I'm short on vomiting all over the man's – the <em>Auror's –</em> polished shoes.</p><p>My heartbeat is like a bird's. I feel like one, too. A bird that just got its wings clipped.</p><p>“Hullo, Malfoy. Nice to see you again. I've heard your mother isn't so well?“</p><p>I can't speak.</p><p>The man starts walking, dragging me along.</p><p>“Such a pity. You Malfoys were always so poised and uppity, and now... Well, I figure none of you are anymore? Right, Malfoy?“</p><p>The hand on my arm grips me so tightly that I can feel my bones creaking.</p><p>“You're not all that poised when you're on your knees, begging for my cock, are you?“</p><p>I can't help the little whimper escaping my throat, but I quickly swallow the next one.</p><p>“<em>Are you</em>, Malfoy?“</p><p>He gives my arm a slight, subtle shake.</p><p>“No, I'm not,“ I choke out.</p><p>Some of the people we're passing throw us a look or two. But all they see is Malfoy scum being escorted out of the building.</p><p>“Oh, but you didn't even beg, did you? Shame.“</p><p>The fingers are bruising me.</p><p>“Well, I guess we'll just have to postpone that to next time. Don't we?“</p><p>We reach the entry hall and my head is spinning with panic.</p><p>“Please,“ I whisper.</p><p>A cruel smile spreads on my captor's face.</p><p>“That's the idea, yes. Even though I'll need a bit more than that.“</p><p>He propels me toward the exit, my feet dragging, his body made of steel.</p><p>“Draco!“</p><p>Both mine and the man's head turns. None other than Harry is striding toward us, a slight frown on his face. Heady relief and sickening dread fight for dominance in my stomach.</p><p>“And Julien. Hey.“</p><p>Harry's eyes dart from me to him, then to where <em>Julien </em>has my wrist in his grasp.</p><p>“Harry, mate. Didn't expect to see you here.“</p><p>“Yeah, I was waiting for Draco. What about you?“</p><p>Harry's voice is polite, but the suspicion evident.</p><p>“I'm supposed to check on the Malfoys. Catch up on some questioning.“</p><p>Dark brows knit together.</p><p>“Really? I didn't hear anything about that.“</p><p>He turns to me. Looks at me.</p><p>“Did you?“</p><p>My lips part. My head is empty and I have no idea what to say, so I don't say anything.</p><p>“Well, didn't you quit today?“ Julien asks.</p><p>Harry's brows rise.</p><p>“I did. How do you know?“</p><p>“Dawson told me.“</p><p>“Right. I always forget you two are brothers.“</p><p>“No worries. We're in different offices. But, if you excuse me now...“</p><p>He starts walking again and like a spineless doll, I follow.</p><p>“Wait up.“</p><p>My other hand is suddenly taken. The feeling of being some doll intensifies. Yet I don't want Harry to let me go.</p><p>“What questioning? Where?“</p><p>I can tell Julien is getting impatient, even though he hides it well.</p><p>“Oh, nothing serious. Just a follow-up on the circumstances of Mrs. Malfoy's seizure.“</p><p>The frown on Harry's face eases. He's been waiting for someone to question me on that assault for days. If only he knew.</p><p>I think I'm going to throw up.</p><p>“Yeah, okay.“</p><p>His eyes find mine.</p><p>“Then I'll see you later?“</p><p>He's still holding my hand. Julien's grip on my wrist tightens.</p><p>“Yes. See you later,“ I say.</p><p>At the same time, I squeeze Harry's hand so strongly, I'm sure it hurts. The just eased frown reappears with force.</p><p>“Actually, I just remembered – Draco and I have an appointment. I think you'll have to postpone your conversation. We'll be in touch, yeah?“</p><p>Julien's brows rise.</p><p>“Draco?“ he asks, looking at Harry. The Gryffindor meets his gaze without batting a lash.</p><p>Julien turns back to me. I'm aware that people are beginning to look at us, wondering what business their beloved Chosen One and a respectable Auror have with Draco Malfoy.</p><p>“Sure. I'll just check in with Mrs. Malfoy once more, then.“</p><p>Julien's voice is light, but I couldn't miss the threat in his words if I tried to. My stomach turns and I pull my fingers out of Harry's.</p><p>“I'm positive our appointment can wait,“ I say, not quite looking at Harry.</p><p>“Brilliant.“</p><p>Julien starts walking and I'm dragged after him, heart pounding so hard I hope to pass out right here, right now, before he'll make me beg for him to rape me.</p><p>But I don't pass out and Harry lets me go. Lets me go with a man that seems to be, if not his friend, at least a trusted colleague. A man way worthier of his time and trust than I could ever be. Even if that man is a rapist.</p><p>Afterall, is it even possible to rape a whore?</p><p>I'm so wrapped up in my spiraling thoughts that I don't hear Harry approaching until he's blocking our way, right in front of the winged doors.</p><p>“Julien, Dawson told me you'd have lunch with him. About... now. Why aren't you with him?“</p><p>Julien pauses and stares at Harry.</p><p>“Seriously, mate? I've never planned to have lunch with Dawson. I'm working. So, let me do my job?“</p><p>“No. No, I don't think I can. Let Draco go.“</p><p>Something dangerous creeps into Julien's voice.</p><p>“You're not an Auror anymore, Harry. And you're not my boss. Get out of the way.“</p><p>Harry looks at me.</p><p>“Let go of him,“ he repeats and when Julien doesn't, Harry's eyes narrow and the Auror lets out a little gasp as his hand is wrenched away from my wrist. I gasp, some air finally reaching my lungs.</p><p>“You don't have to go with him, Draco. You haven't been appointed.“</p><p>His green eyes are pleading.</p><p>“Just, come home with me. Yeah?“</p><p>“My mother...“</p><p>Harry stares Julien down and pushes himself between us.</p><p>“You won't <em>check </em>on Mrs. Malfoy.“</p><p>“I'm doing my job. I'm supposed to be here.“</p><p>Julien's eyes are black and angry. So angry.</p><p>“Yeah? You want to go to Robards and talk to him about it, then? Or should I just check with Ron?“</p><p>The muscles on Julien's jaw twitch.</p><p>“If one of them acts out, it'll be on you,“ he says, then turns and briskly walks away.</p><p>I start shivering so violently that I can hardly keep upright. Harry takes my hand and pulls me out of the way, so not to block the entry any longer.</p><p>“What the fuck was that?“</p><p>I can't answer.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>I just shake my head, trying to breathe and focus on the cool air flooding my lungs, on the solid ground beneath my feet. But it's not enough. I'm drifting and I don't know how to anchor myself.</p><p>“Hey. It'll be okay.“</p><p>Strong arms wrap around me, sure and warm. For a moment, I'm stiff, then I sink into it, burrowing my face in Harry's neck. He's stroking my back, his cheek against my hair.</p><p>“I've got you. I'm here.“</p><p>My hands are clutching at the back of his jacket and hugging him, behing held by him, finally stops the violent shaking of my body.</p><p>After long minutes, I pull back, but not fully.</p><p>“I'm sorry,“ I rasp.</p><p>Harry shakes his head, his eyes searching my face.</p><p>“Did he do something to you?“</p><p>I bite my lip and close my eyes.</p><p>“Draco? Did he hurt you?“</p><p>I open my eyes again.</p><p>“He's an Auror,“ I say flatly.</p><p>“The fuck I care! What did he <em>do</em>?“</p><p>Tears are spilling, catching on my lashes and rolling over my cheeks.</p><p>“I can't tell you.“</p><p>My fingers are clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, and the horror of that day, of snow and stone scraping my knees raw, threatens to take me under.</p><p>Harry pulls me close again.</p><p>“Okay, okay. I won't make you.“</p><p>He tilts his head back so he can look at me.</p><p>“But, Draco?“</p><p>I gaze at him, aware that there must still be tears in my eyes.</p><p>“You know you <em>can </em>tell me, right? You can tell me anything. I'll believe you. Always.“</p><p>I press my face into his jacket and wrap my arms around him and he wraps his around me until it's hard to say where I end and he begins.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to eat something? Have a cuppa, maybe?“</p><p>I shake my head, arms wrapped around my body in an attempt to calm myself. The empty flat isn't threatening, yet half of me doesn't seem to be here. Half of me is in front of my mother's flat, hidden behind dumpsters.</p><p>Harry looks at me, standing maybe a metre away, but it feels like a mile.</p><p>“How can I help?“</p><p>I just shake my head and take a deep breath. Bending my legs is hard work, but I manage to sit down, perched on the edge of the sofa, fingers now clutching my knees.</p><p>Harry sits down beside me, careful to leave some inches of space between us.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>I look up.</p><p>Snow and stone under my knees. Roaring pain inside of me as I'm torn apart.</p><p>Harry is quiet, hardly even breathing. I know hes looking at me, but I stare straight ahead. I don't think I could look into his face and start talking.</p><p>My fingers starts scratching at my knees and thighs, but I can't stop them.</p><p>“I was getting home from the club and I was tired and I didn't notice that someone... someone had followed me.“</p><p>I take a measured breath.</p><p>“My fingers were frozen from the cold, so I took a while fumbling for the key.“</p><p>I pause. Close my eyes for a moment, before I continue, my voice starting to tremble now.</p><p>“Someone grabbed me from behind. Said things to me, about how it's not fair that Aurors aren't allowed in the <em>Serpent's Den</em>. He... dragged me behind the dumpsters. He told me what my father did to his family.“</p><p>My breath catches.</p><p>“That his little sister was raped by Greyback and that I – needed to pay and then...“</p><p>I try to keep my lip from trembling by biting it, but it doesn't work. Unconsciously, I start rocking, back and forth.</p><p>“He pushed me down, on my knees and fucked me in the snow. The bruises you saw – he smashed my head on the asphalt.“</p><p>“Oh, Draco.“</p><p>Harry's voice is full of pain, but I'm still half there and not able to meet his eyes or even look in his direction.</p><p>“I don't know why I keep thinking about it. I don't know why... He just fucked me. Nothing – he just...“</p><p>I'm aware that my voice is skidding.</p><p>“But I'm there, all the time. It's like it's happening over and over and over again and I just need it to <em>stop</em>.“</p><p>I fold in on myself, drawing my legs up and hugging them to my chest, burying my face in my arms, forehead against my knees.</p><p>“Draco, he didn't <em>just fuck </em>you. Julien raped you.“</p><p>His voice is trembling, with shock and pain and rage and for a moment, I think he's mad at me.</p><p>“I'm sorry, I...“</p><p>“What the <em>fuck </em>are you sorry for? I'll go after that piece of shit. I'm going to fucking kill him for what he did to you.“</p><p>I look up and shake my head.</p><p>“No, Harry. Please. It's... I understand why. He was in a lot of pain.“</p><p>“That's <em>not </em>an excuse, Draco. How can you even say that?“</p><p>Shocked, I realize Harry is crying. Without even thinking about it, I reach out and brush the tears off his cheeks.</p><p>“I'm a whore. People pay to fuck me. It's not a crime.“</p><p>“He didn't pay. And you're not a whore anymore.“</p><p>I lift my shoulders slowly.</p><p>“I think he actually paid more than most of the others did. He paid in the blood of his sister.“</p><p>Harry shakes his head, eyes never leaving mine. His hands come to rest on my shoulders and he squeezes them.</p><p>“No, that's not how it works. Yes, what happened to his sister was awful and wrong, but first off, it wasn't your fault. And secondly, nothing, <em>nothing </em>in the world gives anyone the right to rape you, Draco. You're not... some fuck toy. You're a <em>person</em>. And you <em>can </em>say no.“</p><p>Harry's words poke at something inside of me, something painful and powerful, something that has lain dormant for ages now. Our eyes lock and I'm afraid of the emotions welling up in my chest. Yet I don't look away.</p><p>“Let's go to the Ministry together, yeah? We'll get him.“</p><p>I flinch, my eyes widening in shock.</p><p>“No!“</p><p>Harry blinks at me, clearly confused.</p><p>“No?“</p><p>“Definitely not. Don't tell anyone about it.“</p><p>The Gryffindor leans back just a little, an irritated frown on his features.</p><p>“Jesus, why don't you want to sue him?“</p><p>I want to rip my hair out at his naivety.</p><p>“No one would believe me. I'm not only a <em>Malfoy</em>, I'm also a <em>whore</em>. And he is an Auror.“</p><p>“Whores still have the right to say no. And Aurors don't get a free pass for everything.“</p><p>His voice is quiet. I shake my head.</p><p>“Not in my world.“</p><p>For a moment, I think Harry will yell at me. He looks absolutely furious and usually, that look results in me getting beat up or maybe bent over the nearest piece of funiture.</p><p>“If you want me to leave, I will,“ I say.</p><p>Harry's gaze finds me again and his face softens.</p><p>“No, of course not. I'm not mad at <em>you</em>. I just can't deal with how unfair all of this is.“</p><p>I crook a fleeting, faint smile.</p><p>“That's how the world works, Harry.“</p><p>The clock is ticking and dark clouds suddenly dim the light in the room.</p><p>“But, I promise you – if you ever want to sue Julien, I'll make sure that he gets what he deserves.“</p><p>His eyes are blazing and I'm overwhelmed by his fire.</p><p>“I appreciate that.“</p><p>“I mean it. Just say the word, and I'll take him down. However you want me to.“</p><p>My eyes wanders over his face and slowly, I lean in. Harry stops breathing, his eyes wide open, as I inch closer, until my breath is ghosting over his lips. I look into his eyes, green universes, then close my own and kiss him.</p><p>Our lips touch and the world falls away. When I open my mouth to welcome his tongue, he draws back.</p><p>I blink at him. His fingers are caressing my cheeks, running through my hair.</p><p>“Is that your way of saying <em>thank you</em>?“</p><p>“I...“</p><p>I don't know what he wants to hear. I don't even know what the true answer would be.</p><p>“Never kiss me for any other reason than that you want to,“ the Gryffindor says.</p><p>Something hard and bitter, sordid and tethered to all the light in my chest, begins to melt.</p><p>“Okay.“</p><p>“Promise me, please.“</p><p>“I promise.“</p><p>I smile and lift my hand to touch his face, then lean in again for another kiss.</p><p>Harry's hand is on my jaw, his lips moving against mine sweetly, with the faintest pressure. I realize that I don't know how to kiss properly, since I usually just open my mouth for whoever john is in need of plundering it.</p><p>But Harry waits until my own tongue is darting out, flicking over his bottom lip, before he opens his mouth. The first touch of our tongues ignites a fire in my belly that I've never felt before. Not like this. I do remember, darkly and faintly, wanking in the safety of my own bed, silencing charms put up. Those are my best memories of sex.</p><p>But this is different.</p><p>I moan against his mouth and suddenly, all I want is to get closer. Harry lets me in, lets me take the lead, following obediently.</p><p>When we break the kiss, we're both flushed and panting.</p><p>Harry grins at me, bright eyes sparkling.</p><p>“Wow. We're fucking good at this.“</p><p>I arch a brow at him.</p><p>“I am a professional, Potter.“</p><p>Unfaced, he nudges my nose with his.</p><p>“Don't take all the credit, you git.“</p><p>The melting process in my chest proceeds and I wrap my arms around his neck, carding my hands through his soft, messy hair.</p><p>“I'd never.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Ron gets home rather late, but Draco and I are still on the sofa together, him reading, me flipping through various job offers. I'll have to consult Hermoine on this. I'm sure she'll be have better advise to offer than any of those dusty books I bought on the subject.</p><p>I feel a little stupid, starting from square one, with no idea what I want to do. But then again, I'm not even twenty-two yet. I think it's a reasonable time for some soul-searching.</p><p>“Mate, I can't believe you're actually leaving me alone with those pricks,“ Ron says as he enters the living room, shoes thrown carelessly into a corner. Draco flinches a little as he acknowledges Ron's presence, but his eyes don't shutter completely.</p><p>“Anyone a beer?“</p><p>“I'll take one,“ I say.</p><p>Draco stays quiet.</p><p>“Ferret?“</p><p>I watch the flutter of his curved lashes as Draco looks up.</p><p>“No, thank you.“</p><p>Ron returns with two bottles of beer from the kitchen and I scoot closer to Draco to make room for him on the sofa. I catch the tiny smile curving the blond's lips as our thighs touch and my heart sings.</p><p>“Julien's been a right git today,“ Ron says, popping his bottle open.</p><p>Draco goes rigid. I put a calming hand on his knee, careful not to place it too high so not to make him uncomfortable.</p><p>“Why'd you say that?“ I ask.</p><p>The ginger shrugs, his eyes darting to my hand.</p><p>“I don't know. He just seemed right pissed all day. Dawson was pretty annoyed.“</p><p>He takes a swig from his bottle.</p><p>“Can I ask a question?“</p><p>“Sure,“ I say.</p><p>“Are you two dating now or what?“</p><p>My cheeks heat and I glance at Draco. His blush is more subtle than mine, but his grey eyes don't help me at all. I can't read his expression.</p><p>“I mean... I hope we might be?“</p><p>I keep looking at the Slytherin. His face is still unreadable. I have to wait for an agonizingly long moment before he says: “Sure.“</p><p>I make a mental note that we definitely have to talk about this soon, then turn back to Ron.</p><p>“Well, fuck me,“ he says and lifts the bottle again.</p><p>“We need someone smart in the house,“ I say, just barely keeping myself from adding <em>since Hermione left</em>.</p><p>Ron's face tells me that he heard that unspoken addition loud and clear and I want to kick my own arse.</p><p>“I guess.“</p><p>He glances over me to Draco.</p><p>“Just keep on cleaning the bathroom like you do and we'll be good.“</p><p>I elbow Ron.</p><p>“You really don't have to clean the bathroom. Ron always skips his turns.“</p><p>Draco's eyes flicker between us. Finally, he arches a brow.</p><p>“Well, I'm not going to cook for you.“</p><p>“No worries, that's Harry's job.“</p><p>“<em>Our </em>job,“ I say pointedly, even though it's not really true. Ron is useless in the kitchen.</p><p>“Anyway,“ Ron says. “I'll be at the pub with the guys tonight. Are you coming?“</p><p>I'm not sure if he's just asking me or if Draco is included in the invitation. Either way, I shake my head.</p><p>“Not tonight. But next time, yeah? Say hello from me.“</p><p>Ron sighs.</p><p>“Hermoine will have my bollocks when you don't show up <em>again</em>. Even Neville's already asking about you.“</p><p>“I'll be there next time.“</p><p> </p><p>Later, when Ron is brushing his teeth, Draco approaches me in the kitchen on socked, silent feet.</p><p>“Yeah?“</p><p>I smile at him. Every time I look at him, I can't think of anything else but kissing him again. But I think I'm waiting for him to make the move.</p><p>“You know you don't have to hang around here because of me, right?“</p><p>I blink and put my empty cup in the sink, leaning my hip against the counter.</p><p>“Yeah, no. I do. I'm actually really looking forward to having you all to myself tonight.“</p><p>Draco's eyes shoot up at me, then flicker to the side.</p><p>“Right.“</p><p>A blush is painting my cheeks red. I'm a fool.</p><p>“I didn't mean – I thought we could go out, maybe. If you'd like to. Have dinner or something.“</p><p>Grey eyes are searching my face.</p><p>“Dinner?“</p><p>“I mean, only if you want to.“</p><p>A tiny, permanent frown is written on Draco's forehead. I want to smooth it with my fingers, but I don't dare to.</p><p>“What did you mean when you said we'd be dating?“ the Slytherin suddenly asks.</p><p>“Oh. Um, I just...“ I stutter.</p><p>Fucking Ron. Of course he'd ask before Draco and I had the chance to talk about it.</p><p>“I didn't want to be presumptuous. But I'd really like to, well, be your boyfriend? If you want me to be.“</p><p>Draco's fingers toy with the hem of his shirt.</p><p>“My boyfriend.“</p><p>“Yes. If you want to.“</p><p>“I don't think it's such a good idea, Harry.“</p><p>My stomach drops several floors. I grip the edge of the counter.</p><p>“Why not?“</p><p>Draco's eyes find mine. Sad and weary.</p><p>“You're Harry Potter. And I'm...“</p><p>“For the thousandth time, you're not a whore anymore.“</p><p>“I was. That's enough. Plus, I'm also an Ex-Death-Eater.“</p><p>I shrug defiantely.</p><p>“So what? I don't care what people say. You're not a criminal.“</p><p>“I don't even have a wand, Harry.“</p><p>“Ron and I are trying to change that.“</p><p>Draco stares at me.</p><p>“What?“</p><p>I lick my lips and give him a sheepish smile.</p><p>“I didn't plan to tell you, so not to get your hopes up, but, yeah. We're talking to Kingsley.“</p><p>“To the <em>Minister</em>?“</p><p>“That's the one. He hasn't really said much yet, but he's listening, which is a good sign. We're trying to get you cleared to use a wand again. I mean, I doubt they'd let you cast any curses, but charms and spells shouldn't be a problem. I hope so, at least.“</p><p>Draco's mouth hangs open until he realizes his indignant state and shuts it.</p><p>“Harry.“</p><p>I grin at the tone of his voice.</p><p>“Yeah?“</p><p>He shakes his head, remaining silent.</p><p>“So, will you go to dinner with me? As my date, at least?“</p><p>Arctic eyes that don't seem so cold at all anymore lock with mine.</p><p>“Yes, I will.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“Is Weasley home?“</p><p>Harry shuts the door behind us.</p><p>“Nah, I'm sure he'll be out for many more -“</p><p>His eyes widen and his breath catches as I kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands fly up to my waist, pulling me in. This time, the kiss is heated from the start and it doesn't take me any convincing before we're stumbling toward Harry's bedroom, toeing off our shoes, leaving our jackets and shirts in a puddle on the floor.</p><p>Anticipation and dread is buzzing in my veins, but I push it all down and away. Tonight, I'll make Harry happy. I'll finally give him what he wants and I'll be <em>good</em>.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>Harry's hands are nervous and clumsy and eager as they're pulling on my arms, stroking my waist. He's still timid, but I'm sure that will change in a moment. Part of me wants nothing more than to see that, experience it.</p><p>Another part wants to cry and hide where no hands can ever find me.</p><p>None of the parts matter.</p><p>I kiss his jaw and open his trousers.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>It's a question, this time. I hum and stroke the bulge in his underpants.</p><p>“Oh, fuck.“</p><p>Harry is panting and I think he's forgotten his question, but when I want to slip my fingers under his waistband, he catches my hand.</p><p>“Are you sure this isn't too fast?“</p><p>“We're dating, Harry. I reckon it's not too fast.“</p><p>“But it's not about that.“</p><p>I hate that he's interrupting me again. How am I supposed to please him when he keeps asking stupid questions?</p><p>I want to get this over with before I lose my nerve.</p><p>“Draco, look at me.“</p><p>I do and try to capture his lips again, but he draws back. His fingers lace through mine.</p><p>“You're doing it for me again.“</p><p>I groan in frustration.</p><p>“Can you please let me do the one thing for you I have to offer?“</p><p>Harry winces.</p><p>“What?“</p><p>I stare at him. He's given me everything, slaying my demons and taking me into his home, even risking his reputation by taking me out publically, pissing off his best mate and there is nothing, <em>nothing </em>I can give in return.</p><p>Except for my body.</p><p>“I want to please you,“ I say and it's not a lie. “And I want to give you something, even though I know I'll never be able to pay you back. But at least...“</p><p>Harry scoots away from me, his expression almost shocked. Disgusted.</p><p>My face falls. My hands slip out of his. I feel grime covering my skin. My knees are on the hard ground, bleeding but numb from snow.</p><p>“You don't want me.“</p><p>Harry takes one of my hands back in his.</p><p>“Don't be a moron. Of course I want you. But I don't...“</p><p>His eyes wanders over my face.</p><p>“I told you that you don't have to pay me back. You don't owe me anything, Draco.“</p><p>“I owe you <em>everything</em>.“</p><p>He scoots closer again, brushing my fringe out of my face.</p><p>“You, here with me, is all I want. All I need.“</p><p>“I don't believe that.“</p><p>“But it's the truth.“</p><p>Harry presses a light kiss to my lips.</p><p>“If you want to, if you're <em>ready</em>, I want to sleep with you, too. But <em>only </em>if you're willing.“</p><p>“I am.“</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes and kisses me again.</p><p>“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight? Just sleep.“</p><p>I blink, confused and out of my depth and at a loss.</p><p>“Yes. Okay.“</p><p>He grins and takes his jeans off. The boxers he's wearing are endearingly shabby. I take off my own jeans and I don't miss him glancing at my legs, but it's just a moment, before he crawls under the covers and lifts the blanket for me.</p><p>“Get in.“</p><p>I do, sliding under the warm blanket and against his even warmer body. He grabs my hand, turns to his side and pulls my arm with him, until I'm spooning him. His scent, sweet and masculine and unique, fills my nose, making my head dizzy.</p><p>“That okay?“ he murmurs sleepily.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>He snuggles against me and I know he'll feel my heart pounding against his back. Slowly, one by one, my limbs relax, curling around his body. I have barely time to marvel at how perfectly we fit together, before I'm drifting off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think there are about three chapters left! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos &lt;3 It means a lot to me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Draco?“</p><p>I turn around, letting go of my mother's cold hand. The room is bathed in sunlight she can't see. Harry has appeared in the doorframe, broad smile on his face.</p><p>“I've got an acceptance letter! For teacher training.“</p><p>I get up and smile at him.</p><p>“That's great.“</p><p>In the three weeks since our first date and my disastrous attempt at seduction, a lot has happened. Harry spoke to Neville when I could finally convince him to go see his friends and since that, he's determined to become a teacher. I didn't say much to that, except for that I thought it was a brilliant idea. He didn't waste time applying to several programs for nascent teachers and now, the first acceptance letter seems to have arrived.</p><p>I get up and smile at him. He kisses me and now I can feel his smile on my lips.</p><p>Another thing that caused great turmoil were the photos of me and Harry out for dinner that made it on the frontpage of the Prophet. We didn't kiss, didn't even hold hands, but the setting is distinctly intimate and the way we're leaning in toward each other is more than suggestive.</p><p>While the papers are having a feast speculating about our relationship and what potions or spells I might have used to brainwash Harry, I'm still waiting for the bomb to drop. I know that it's only a matter of time until someone digs deep enough and finds out about my past profession.</p><p>Whenever the fear of that day won't let me sleep, Harry holds me and promises me we'll get through it, that he'll do anything in his power to protect me.</p><p>I'm not stupid – I know he can't protect me from the shame and hatred I'll recieve from the public. From the humiliation. But I'm starting to believe that he'll stick around to help me through it, which is enough for me to keep my head high. I am prepared.</p><p>But the timing of it all is so horrid, that it feels like a blow to my gut anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Harry and I are drinking tea in the kitchen when Weasley barges in, a rolled up Prophet in his hand. He slams it on the table in front of us.</p><p>“Read the headline, then I'll burn that garbage.“</p><p>
  <em>The fall of Draco Malfoy: From Prince to Prostitute</em>
</p><p>My hands are shaking only slightly as I push the paper away from me.</p><p>“What kind of retarted goblin wrote that? I've never been a prince. Get your facts straight.“</p><p>“They're wondering if Ferret fucked the sanity out of you – right after he tricked you into his bed with his whore magic,“ Weasley says to Harry, snorting.</p><p>“As if I was some kind of animal that couldn't resist a pretty boy,“ Harry says, wrinkling his nose.</p><p>I drop my face in my hands, pressing the sides of my hands into my eyes.</p><p>“Hey.“</p><p>Harry strokes my back.</p><p>“We knew this would happen. It'll be fine.“</p><p>I push him away.</p><p>“It will not be <em>fine</em>.“</p><p>“Well, at least it's going to be interesting tonight,“ Weasley says.</p><p>My eyes widen in horror. I managed to forget for a moment that I've let myself get talked into meeting with Harry's friends tonight.</p><p>“I'm not going,“ I say.</p><p>Harry frowns.</p><p>“What? You promised.“</p><p>I stare at him.</p><p>“That was before the whole wizarding world knew my arse used to be for sale.“</p><p>Harry reaches for my hand, but I pull it away and get up.</p><p>“I need some air.“</p><p>Before I make it out the door, Harry catches me.</p><p>“Draco, I'm sorry this happened. I really am. But please, don't leave me hanging tonight. I told everyone I'd bring a date. And we've never been out with my friends together. I wanted to show you off.“</p><p>He smiles, but it quickly drips from his face confronted with my incredulous stare.</p><p>“You expect me to sit through a night of drinking with people who hate my guts and think I'd have manipulated you into taking me in? They'll think you've gotten yourself a whore.“</p><p>Harry's features harden.</p><p>“They won't think that. Not most of them, anyway. They're my friends.“</p><p>“Well, one of your precious friends beat the shit out of me and the rest of them think I'm scum.“</p><p>“That's mostly though because you used to treat them like exactly that when we were in school!“</p><p>Harry isn't quite yelling, but it's close.</p><p>I flinch back. Of course, how could I forget.</p><p>“I see. Your perfect friends won't want to waste their time with a bully, Death Eater and whore.“</p><p>“That's not what I was saying, Draco. I just... you can't blame them for being suspicious.“</p><p>My heart is pounding hard.</p><p>“Of course not. I brought this all on myself.“</p><p>I push past him.</p><p>“No, Draco, wait -“</p><p>But I don't wait. I slip through the door and dash down the stair, leaving the building and Harry behind.</p><p> </p><p>I was being stupid.</p><p>Harry and I haven't talked about our history since those very first meetings at the Leaky. Somehow, I managed to almost forget about it. I'm always so caught up in my past as a whore, I tend to forget what came before that. That in some ways, that time is even worse. Makes me even more unlikable.</p><p>But Harry's friends won't let me forget any part of it. They'll hate me and they have every right to. I've been horrible to them in school, my parents killed their friends and family and now, I've stolen their hero.</p><p>I bite down on my lip, upping my pace. The chilly air slaps my cheeks.</p><p>What was I thinking, actually believing I could be part of Harry's life? I could never be. We're too different and I've made far too many mistakes.</p><p>Redemption is finite and never easily given. There is a point past which it's not an option anymore.</p><p>I think I've crossed that point when I let Fenrir Greyback into Hogwarts, mutilating the students. It doesn't matter that during that time, I was already merely trying to protect my family. I did what I did – I almost killed that Gryffindor chaser, I almost killed <em>Weasley</em>, even if I didn't mean to. I let Death Eaters into the castle.</p><p>And if all of that wasn't enough already, I spent the last three years selling my arse to anyone willing to pay just to survive.</p><p>I take a shuddering breath. I know that Harry doesn't see it that way – I have no clue why, but I know he doesn't. He is somehow capable of forgiving me for my sins, but expecting his friends to do the same is simply too much.</p><p>Hermione Granger was tortured by my aunt, in my house, and I just stood by, doing nothing. If I was her, I'd never forgive me.</p><p>I have to tell Harry that. Have to tell him that I want to make an effort for him because he deserves everything, but me trying to make nice with his friends would only hurt him in the end.</p><p>Abruptly, I turn around and head back to the flat.</p><p>When I open the door (the idiots gave me a key) both Gryffindors are waiting right behind it.</p><p>“I'm sorry,“ Harry blurts. “I didn't mean to be so pushy.“</p><p>I shake my head. I wish Weasley would leave, but I'm not in the position to make demands right now.</p><p>“No, I am.“</p><p>I meet Harry's eyes.</p><p>“I am sorry for running off like I did. You should know, I would love to give you what you want, to go meet your friends and be your date. But you have to realize, Harry. They <em>hate </em>me. And I can't blame them. I hate myself most of the time as well. I don't want them to hate you, too, because of the mistakes I made.“</p><p>Harry opens his mouth, but it's Weasley who answers.</p><p>“Look, Ferret.“</p><p>He crosses his arms, his gaze steady.</p><p>“I haven't forgiven you for everything you've done. I mean, you almost killed me. You called Hermoine mudblood and what not. But I know you're not that person anymore. And I know that you want to be better. I recognize that and, yeah. I guess I'm willing to like you for Harry's sake, at least. Plus you actually aren't as annoying as I thought.“</p><p>I stare at Weasley and for once, my mouth is faster than my brain.</p><p>“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for everything I put you through. For insulting you and your family.“</p><p>“Why did you?“ he interrupts me. “I used to think you were just cruel, but now... I don't think you're a cruel man.“</p><p>I look around, then back at him, feeling helpless.</p><p>“I don't know. Part of it was my father speaking. He only ever lost the ugliest words about... about families like yours. And part of it might have been jealousy. You always seemed so happy. Your family, I mean. So many people that were always bickering and your mother cried when she sent you off to school. Your father hugged you.“</p><p>Weasley stares at me.</p><p>“Oh. Okay.“</p><p>My cheeks are flaming and I shrug.</p><p>“It was mostly my upbringing. I just didn't know better.“</p><p>“You could have though. At least when you got older.“</p><p>I nod. “Yes. And eventually, I learned. But it was too late, I know that.“</p><p>Weasley tilts his head and shifts his weight.</p><p>“It was late. But I don't think <em>too </em>late. I didn't forget that you refused to sell us out when they caught us at the Manor. I know you... were trying.“</p><p>“Not hard enough.“</p><p>For the first time, Weasley and I lock eyes and see each other.</p><p>Harry looks between the two of us, astonishment on his face.</p><p>“You'll be fine,“ Weasley says roughly. “Some people will say ugly things, but just don't listen. If anyone tries anything – which I don't think they will – Harry and I got your back.“</p><p>With that, Weasley turns around and heads toward the kitchen.</p><p>Harry's smile at me rivals the sun. He crowds in closer and kisses me, sweet and lingering.</p><p>“You're pretty awesome, do you know that?“</p><p>I refuse to be flattered or warmed and frown at him.</p><p>“Do you really want me to go? You won't be able to take it back if you do.“</p><p>Harry takes my hands and squeezes.</p><p>“I wouldn't want to.“</p><p> </p><p>The pub we're meeting at is one of those newer, more modern ones. I wish it wasn't, because many young people will be here. People that will easily recognize me and have probably read everything the Prophet printed about me.</p><p>But I don't get to choose and Harry wants me to be here, so I braze through it with my chin held high, even when people are starting to whisper furiously.</p><p>Weasley strides ahead and Harry holds my hand. He's trying to hide it, but I can tell he's nervous as well.</p><p>The music in the pub is just a touch too loud, assaulting my ears. It smells like high quality greasy food and cocktails.</p><p>We approach a round table that is filled with old classmates of mine and I focus on breathing evenly. This is going to be bad. It's going to be bad and that's okay, because this, for once, is totally, entirely my fault. They hate me because I've been an arsehole.</p><p>Now I have to show them I've changed, so they won't make Harry's life hell. I have to try.</p><p>“Ron!“</p><p>Granger gets up from her chair and hugs Weasley. She looks good, I think. Her formerly frizzy, bushy hair seems tamer and someone must have taught her how to dress, because the outfit she has chosen flatters her curves.</p><p>Her face freezes for a moment when her eyes find Harry and me.</p><p>“Nice to see you, 'Mione.“</p><p>Harry gathers her in his arms and I'm not sure if he might be whispering something into her ear. When he lets go of her, the witch looks at me. I stretch out my hand.</p><p>“Hello, Granger. You look stunning.“</p><p>She blinks, her eyes darting over my face, mouth slightly downturned. She takes my hand though and says: “Long time no see. Have a seat.“</p><p>Relief overcomes me as I manage to snatch a chair between Harry and Weasley.</p><p>Silence falls over the table as everyone, every single one of them, stares at me.</p><p>I recognize them all, even though I've known some better than others. Thomas and Finnigan gaze at me in blatant suspicion. I think the last time we saw each other, hexes were thrown in nightly Hogwarts corridors. They were trying to sneak into one of the dungeon cells where the Carrows had chained a First Year to the wall. Instead of calling them, I duelled the two Gryffindors.</p><p>Amicus Carrow crucioed me for that, even though I doubt he realized I was trying to protect the Gryffindors from his wrath. It was pointless, since he found out about them anyway.</p><p>Ginny Weasley is regarding me with something very close to hatred marring her features. Luna, sitting next to her, only eyes me curiously.</p><p>When I look at Longbottom, my insides shrivel and dry up. I remember how I used to make his life hell. I also remember how startled I was at his courage, how fearlessly he tried to protect his peers and the younger students from Voldmort and the Carrows.</p><p>His gaze isn't easy to decipher. It's reserved, a little shocked.</p><p>The blond girl next to him squeezes his hand. I think her name is Abott, but I'm not sure I've ever spoken a word to her. She was a Hufflpuff and I hardly noticed those when I was at Hogwarts.</p><p>“Draco. How interesting to see you again.“</p><p>My gaze darts back to Luna and my heart clenches. We got to know each other a little bit while she was held captive at the Manor. I like to think I tried my best to make her life more bearable, but I know that, ultimately, I wasn't able to change anything for her.</p><p>“It's been a while,“ I agree.</p><p>“A while Malfoy apparently spent whoring in Knockturn. How the mighty have fallen.“</p><p>Finnigan's face is icy. I want to sink into the floor and disappear, but I'm forced to stay here.</p><p>“Watch it, Seamus,“ Weasley says before Harry can.</p><p>Finnigan stares at Weasley.</p><p>“You like him, too, now? Care to explain?“</p><p>“Just shut your gob, will you?“</p><p>“First round is on me,“ Harry says and the She-Weasel waves a waiter over.</p><p>When everyone has ordered, Luna asks: “Where is George? This is the third time he's missing.“</p><p>“He's working through some issues,“ Weasley says, taking a swig from his butterbeer.</p><p>“Like, mental health stuff?“ Thomas asks.</p><p>Weasley makes a nondescript grunt. I assume his issues are more based on his drug habit, but I hold my tongue.</p><p>Another silence falls over the round. Granger is nipping on her drink. She's the only one of them that makes an effort not to stare, even though I wouldn't say she's successful.</p><p>“Okay, let's just get to the point,“ the She-Weasel finally says. “Harry, have you lost your mind?“</p><p>Harry next to me stiffens.</p><p>“I'm perfectly sane, thank you.“</p><p>She snorts. Luna puts a hand on her arm.</p><p>“Don't be rude, love,“ she says.</p><p>For a brief moment I'm surprised at the endearment, but then Finnigan opens his mouth and I don't ponder on it any longer.</p><p>“Yeah, Harry. Explain, please.“</p><p>Harry lifts his drink, then says: “We ran into each other by accident a couple months ago. The rest is history.“</p><p>“The rest is history?“</p><p>That's Granger now. Harry turns to her.</p><p>“What do you want me to say? We got to know each other, we figured out we work well together. Now we're dating.“</p><p>That's not quite the truth, I don't think, with the rollercoaster ride our fragile relationship has been, but I don't set it right.</p><p>“I don't mean to be mean, but...“</p><p>Granger trails off, apparently not finding a way to express what she's thinking without being mean.</p><p>“I brought Draco here because I wanted you guys to meet my boyfriend. But if you're going to be aresholes about this, then we're leaving.“</p><p>“Harry.“</p><p>Longbottom's calm voice immediately draws everyone's attention.</p><p>“Don't take offense, please. I think we're all happy if you are and I'm glad to meet your date. To meet you, Malfoy.“</p><p>He looks right at me now.</p><p>“But you can't be angry that we have a couple questions. This is unexpected, to say the least.“</p><p>I can feel Harry relax a fraction, but before he can answer, Finnigan blurts: “Yeah, for example what it's like to be taking it up the arse for ten sickles per hour.“</p><p>I meet the Gryffindor's gaze.</p><p>“You seem to be very well versed concerning the charges of Knockturn whores.“</p><p>Finnigan's face reddens and Longbottom says: “Those were not the kind of questions I meant. Merlin, Seamus. You're embarrassing yourself.“</p><p>“I think it would be time to change the subject,“ Luna says, her huge eyes unblinking.</p><p>“She's right,“ Abott agrees. “Harry, didn't you say you were enrolling in a teacher training program?“</p><p>Harry takes the offered hand gratefully and talks for a bit about his program, which buys us about ten minutes of peace. During the next strained silence, Abott says: “I'm sorry about your mother, Draco.“</p><p>I blink at her.</p><p>“Thank you. How do you know she's ill?“</p><p>As far as I'm informed, the Prophet didn't deem this interesting enough to include it in their articles about me.</p><p>“I'm working at St.Mungo's,“ she says. “Speaking of which,“ she turns to Ron, a slight frown on her face. “I was meaning to tell you earlier, but somehow, it always got away from me. One of your colleagues, Dawson's brother, keeps lurking around the building. Mostly on the third ward. If he's got important business to go about, that's fine with me, but there's something creepy about him. Is he shadowing someone? Because otherwise, I really don't understand why he'd be spending so much time there.“</p><p>My stomach is ice cold. Breathing gets hard.</p><p>“Is he?“ Harry growls.</p><p>Under the table, he takes my hand. Ron notices our reaction and says:</p><p>“I'll look into it.“</p><p>Harry's hand is trying to anchor me, but it's not enough. I'm still in front of my flat, my screams wafting through the open window into my mother's ears.</p><p>I scramble up.</p><p>“I'll be right back.“</p><p>Blindly, I stumble through tables and loud people, drunk people, some of which are staring at me. I push the door to the loo open and stumble inside, catching myself on a sink.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>Harry has followed me, bloody Gryffindor he is, and comes up next to me, one hand on my shoulder.</p><p>“I'll get him, I promise.“</p><p>I take a breath and finally manage to pull myself out of the dark memory.</p><p>“I don't want Weasley to look into it. What if he finds out?“</p><p>Harry puts a hand on my cheek, stroking me tenderly.</p><p>“If you don't want anyone to know, they won't. But I'd really ask you to think about it again. Julien deserves to go to Azkaban for what he's done to you.“</p><p>I just shake my head.</p><p>“I don't want to get involved. I'll be the one that pays in the end.“</p><p>“I wouldn't let that happen. But as you wish.“</p><p>I wrap my arms around his neck, crossing my wrists. Harry smiles at me and I give him a quick kiss.</p><p>The door opens.</p><p>“Do you have a moment, Malfoy?“</p><p>Both Harry and I stare at the She-Weasel in astonishment.</p><p>“This is the men's room, Gin,“ Harry says.</p><p>“I'm aware. Would you get out now, please?“</p><p>Harry looks at me, questioning. I hint at a shrug and nod at the She-Weasel.</p><p>“See you out there,“ Harry says, then kisses me once more to prove a point, I assume, before striding out of the loo, throwing the She-Weasel a warning look as he passes her.</p><p>Ginny Weasley has always been an intimidating girl and the older she gets, the more does that impression grow. Her formerly long, fiery hair, is now cropped short, putting her blazing eyes on display and giving her a hard edge.</p><p>Yet I don't think I'm afraid of her.</p><p>“You wanted to talk to me?“ I ask as she's only staring at me.</p><p>“If you fuck with Harry, you'll regret it,“ she says.</p><p>Unimpressed, I arch an eyebrow.</p><p>“I doubt I'm in the position to fuck with him, but I'll keep it in mind.“</p><p>She crowds in closer and I have to fight the urge to step back. I'd only hit my back on the sink and I don't want her to think me weak.</p><p>“I know Harry. He doesn't do things halfway, Malfoy. And somehow, for a reason I'll probably never understand, he's now set on thinking he's in love with you. So if you hurt him, if you play him, Malfoy, you'll be very, very sorry.“</p><p>I narrow my eyes a fraction.</p><p>“I won't hurt him. And I'd never play with him, either.“</p><p>She measures me with her gaze and maybe it's a challenge for me to stand still and keep my ground. If so, I pass.</p><p>“Okay.“</p><p>She leans back, crossing her arms.</p><p>“You'll get one chance, Malfoy. If you fuck it up, I'll have your head.“</p><p>And with that, she strides out of the door, leaving me stunned silent. I don't remember her to be that dramatic.</p><p>I also did not expect her to give me a chance.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the night passes in relative ease. Finnigan still looks at me as if he'd want to kill me and Thomas and the She-Weasel ignore me, but everyone else is civil and eventually, they all start talking like I assume they usually would.</p><p>I mostly keep quiet, not keen on drawing attention to myself. Harry's warm presence grounds me and the way he keeps touching me under the table makes a pleasant heat ignite behind my navel.</p><p>Uncharacteristically bold, I let my hand wander up Harry's thigh. As he turns his heated gaze on me, all my inhibitions seem to fall away.</p><p>“Do you want to go home?“ I ask him under my breath so the others won't hear.</p><p>Harry's eyes widen, then his expression turns hungry.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>He's rushing through his goodbyes and I try to be polite, but choose not to address Finnigan directly. I follow Harry out of the pub. Outside, he gathers me close and before I know it, I'm side-alonged into our flat.</p><p>As soon as our feet have hit the ground, we're all over each other, hungry lips and exploring hands.</p><p>“Bedroom,“ Harry gasps out and we almost don't make it there, since we stop every few steps to press close again.</p><p>Only when we've shut the door of the bedroom behind us and got rid of our shirts, things slow for a moment.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to?“ Harry asks, his hands running over my arms.</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“I do.“</p><p>I pull him close to kiss him again and we fall to the bed in a tangle of limbs, moaning into each other's mouths. I'm overwhelmed by all the feelings whirling in my chest, by the liquid heat deep in my belly. By my desire to get closer.</p><p>Harry's fingers find my fly.</p><p>“Can I?“</p><p>I shoot him an annoyed look, then have to kiss him again.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, you imbecile. Now <em>get on </em>with it.“</p><p>Harry laughs against my mouth and we strip off our trousers until we're both in our pants, his erection digging into my hip.</p><p>For the first time, a hint of nerves flutters in my chest, but it doesn't stand a chance against the desire pulsing through my veins.</p><p>We kiss languidely, bodies moving together. My hands pull off Harry's pants and he kicks them away, then slides my own down.</p><p>“What do you want?“ he asks me, breath ragged from our cocks sliding together.</p><p>“Anything you want. For real,“ I add as he gives me one of his suspicious looks. “I've done it all and I'm perfectly fine giving you whatever you want right now. You can fuck me.“</p><p>I run my hands over his warm, strong back and try to squelch the anxiety now making itself known in my stomach. I'm ready. I want to have sex with Harry.</p><p>Harry gazes into my eyes, studies my face until I almost can't stand it anymore.</p><p>“Actually,“ he finally says, his hands stroking my hips, “I want you to fuck me. If you're cool with that.“</p><p>My eyes widen and I stare into his face.</p><p>“I – I mean, really? You want me to?“</p><p>Harry smiles and kisses the corner of my mouth.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>Easily, he rolls us over until I'm on top of him, between his legs, my erection pressing against his thigh.</p><p>“Hold your hand out,“ he says and I oblige, recognizing the cool feeling in my palm for the lube he just conjured. I kiss his jaw, then slide my hand between his thighs, searching for his entrance.</p><p>“I should probably mention,“ Harry says, breath hitching. “That I haven't really done this before. Bottomed, I mean.“</p><p>I look at him again. He blushes a little.</p><p>“I mean, I've been fingered before. But not more.“</p><p>“But you're sure you want to do it tonight? You don't have to for me, you know that.“</p><p>“Yeah, I know.“</p><p>His fingers stroke over my back.</p><p>“I do want to. I've been curious for a while, but I just never trusted anyone enough.“</p><p>The implicaton of that sentence, that he trusts <em>me </em>enough for that, takes my breath away.</p><p>I kiss him, trying to pour words into the kiss I can't say, to make him feel how much this means to me.</p><p>It's not like I've never topped a john before, but it's been a rare occasion. I can count the times during which I wasn't on the receiving end of things on one hand.</p><p>Maybe that's why I'm nervous as I slip the first finger inside Harry's tight heat, this lack of experience, but I really think it's because of Harry. The urge to make this good for him, to not betray his trust in me, burns bright in my chest, encouraging me and making me insecure at the same time.</p><p>Harry moans under me, a sweet sound, and I add a second finger. His brows crease just a little. It burns.</p><p>“Tell me if I'm hurting you,“ I say against his jaw, then kiss down his chest, flicking my tongue over his nipples.</p><p>“You're not.“</p><p>I take my time, making him squirm and sigh and arch his back, spreading his legs wider, before I move up and carefully remove my fingers from his body.</p><p>“Are you ready?“</p><p>He nods at me, blazing green eyes on my face.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>I'm as careful as I'm able to as I enter him, but for a moment, I lose myself. It's been a long time since I've felt this, this tight, hot channel engulfing me, gripping me and I can't help my jaw dropping.</p><p>Harry's eyes are on me and the contrast of pain because of the intrusion and wonder at the sight of me almost makes my heart stop.</p><p>I force myself to stay still and let him adjust – a favour hardly any john has ever done me. Harry's arms snake around me, pulling me closer, his ankles crossing behind my lower back.</p><p>“Fuck me, Draco.“</p><p>I moan and thrust into him, careful at first, but quickly picking up the pace. He's clutching at my back, my arse, his mouth open and his pupils blown.</p><p>“Draco,“ he moans and pulls me closer and without warning, my orgasm takes over me and I spill inside Harry, my head thrown back. I collapse on top of him and his arms come around me, holding me, petting me.</p><p>“Sorry,“ I say as soon as I caught my breath enough to form words. “I didn't mean to just...“</p><p>Harry kisses my lips, my chin, my cheekbones.</p><p>“You're fucking beautiful when you come,“ he says and I stare at him, then kiss him with something dangerously close to an emotion I won't name.</p><p>Cautiously, I ease out of him, but he winces anyway.</p><p>“That feels weird,“ he says, shifting on the bed.</p><p>I know the feeling, this sudden emptiness. I stroke a hand over his chest, then down his body, until I find his puffy, slick hole.</p><p>“It'll pass soon,“ I say and settle between his legs, swallowing his raging erection without much preamble.</p><p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em>,“ Harry moans and it takes me merely one well-timed swallow and an expert twist of my fingers to make him buck up and come down my throat.</p><p>“Fuck,“ he says again as I've crawled up, smiling, and snuggle against his chest.</p><p>“I think I'd really want you to do that to me again sometime.“</p><p>I arch one brow and trace his mouth with the tip of my index. My whole body is loose and sated – and I'm not sore.</p><p>“Suck your cock?“ I ask.</p><p>Harry blushes, but nods eagerly anyway.</p><p>“Yeah.“</p><p>“Hm. I could.“</p><p>He tilts his chin up and we kiss, sweet and deeply.</p><p>“For how long have you known you're gay?“ I ask quietly, gazing into his eyes.</p><p>“I'm not. I'm bi, actually. My friends and the Weasleys have known for, don't know – more than two years now.“</p><p>“Have you... had boyfriends before?“ I ask him.</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>“No. I actually... After Ginny, I didn't really have a relationship at all. I mean, I've dated some women and a guy, but nothing serious. Nothing real.“</p><p>I frown lightly.</p><p>“But you've had sex with a man before, didn't you?“</p><p>He grins up at me.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I just usually top.“</p><p>I tilt my head.</p><p>“You did do this for me. At least a little.“</p><p>Harry runs a hand through my hair.</p><p>“Maybe a little. I thought you might like that better, at least for now. But I didn't lie to you. I really was curious about bottoming. I always wanted to try it.“</p><p>“And?“ I can't keep the nervousness out of my voice.</p><p>Harry smiles and traces the shape of my ear.</p><p>“I like it. It's different than I thought.“</p><p>He thinks for a moment.</p><p>“Is it always so intense?“</p><p>I fold my arms on his chest and take a moment to ponder his question.</p><p>“For some people.“</p><p>“And for you?“</p><p>Curious, solemn green eyes gaze into mine. No one has ever asked me about preferences or how I feel doing anything sexual. It was always assumed I enjoyed it and if not, no one cared anyway.</p><p>I feel exposed, and at the same time, seen. Cared for.</p><p>“I think it used to be intense. But now it's not so much anymore.“</p><p>“Do you like it?“</p><p>I rest my chin on my arms.</p><p>“I don't know. I think I do, yes.“</p><p>I smile, arching a brow.</p><p>“Are you asking if you can fuck me now?“</p><p>Harry shakes his head.</p><p>“No, I was curious. But, I mean, whenever you feel like it, I'd definitely love to fuck you.“</p><p>I smile again, heat and nerves swirling in my stomach, but when I open my mouth, Harry puts a finger to it to silence me.</p><p>“No answer required. I just wanted you to know that.“</p><p>He pulls me against his lips and in a second, our kisses turn from sweet to passionate.</p><p>“So, how do you feel about showing off your blow job skills?“</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry never lets me go to St. Mungo's alone anymore. That wasn't a problem as long as he didn't have to go to work himself. But now things are different.</p><p>I'm wearing one of his jumpers (I like his better than mine), leaning against the kitchen counter and picking at the remnants from Weasley's breakfast. Harry is draining a cup of coffee.</p><p>“Maybe we can visit in the evening when I get back from work,“ he says, putting his empty cup down.</p><p>I frown at him, lightly.</p><p>“We'd only have thirty minutes before visiting hours would end. If even.“</p><p>“I don't want you to go alone,“ he says.</p><p>“I'll be fine. I haven't seen Julien since you scared him shitless.“</p><p>“But Hannah said he was still lurking.“</p><p>“That was a week ago.“</p><p>I flap my hand.</p><p>“I really don't want you to. I mean, your mother won't know if you're there or not anyway.“</p><p>The gaze I shoot him is made entirely of sharpened, polished glass.</p><p>“You don't know that.“</p><p>Harry's green eyes are blazing.</p><p>“The risk is too high.“</p><p>My chest is tight with anger, but I stay silent. Harry steps closer, his face morphing into that puppy look he does so well.</p><p>“Please, Draco.“</p><p>I look down, then into his eyes again.</p><p>“Alright, fine. I'll wait for you.“</p><p>His whole face lights up and he kisses me.</p><p>“Thanks, love. I won't be late.“</p><p>I smile at him and lift my cup of tea, while he gathers his belongings and sweeps out of the door. After one minute, I set my tea down and collect my wallet and keys.</p><p>If Harry Potter thinks I'm taking orders from him, he'll soon find out how dead wrong he is.</p><p> </p><p>“Ferret.“</p><p>I turn to see Weasley leaning in the doorframe, glancing at me.</p><p>“Hello, Weasley.“</p><p>Settling my book in my lap, I scan his Auror robes.</p><p>“What're you reading?“ he asks.</p><p>“Oh, just some sickening romance for my mother. She loves everything unrealistically dramatic and sweet.“</p><p>“I guess you have to dream of better things when married to old Lucius.“</p><p>I look down.</p><p>“My mother loved my father.“</p><p>Ron snorts.</p><p>“Alright.“</p><p>“Can I help you with something?“</p><p>Weasley rolls his shoulder, then his neck, trying to work out some kinks. By the unsatisfied look on his face, I take it he isn't successful.</p><p>“Nah, I'm just checking on you guys.“</p><p>I gracefully get up, smoothing down my shirt and closing the book, marking the page with a silken bookmark and placing it on my mother's nighstand.</p><p>“I was just about to head home.“</p><p>I hesitate a moment, but I don't want to be rude. Too many of Harry's friends still can't stand me. I need to keep Weasley on my side – or at least on neutral ground, where I believe he's standing.</p><p>“Are you coming with?“</p><p>The ginger shakes his head.</p><p>“Gotta finish up on some files at the office. Waste of my fucking time, but you know how it is.“</p><p>Not really, since I've never had a proper job, but I nod anyway.</p><p>“Then I'll see you later.“</p><p>I bend to kiss my mother's forehead, her skin cool and dry under my lips, then stride out of the room.</p><p>All the way through St.Mungo's and down to the bus station, I contemplate how to best face Harry's anger. In the morning, I was feeling bold and defiant, but now, I'm afraid he might be furious with me. He can't give me orders, I remind myself. Yet... I don't want to betray his trust in me. Maybe simply lying to his face wasn't the best way to handle the situation.</p><p>I turn left, the station now in sight, and push my hands into my pockets. Perhaps I could do something nice for him. Buy him flowers? Harry doesn't really feel like the kind of guy to me who'd know to appreciate a nice bouquet.</p><p>Still dwelling on the flowers-or-no-flowers question, I hear the steps just before I'm grabbed. I whirl around and let out an undignified shriek, but then a hand is pressed to my mouth and the tip of a wand digs into my chest.</p><p>“There you are.“</p><p>Julien's eyes are scorching as he pulls me into a dark alley. My limbs are numb. Fear paralyzes me.</p><p>Strong fingers bruise my arm and I know I'm going to be side-alonged in a heartbeat.</p><p>“Let him go!“</p><p>Julien and I both turn. Weasley is dashing toward us, wand raised and face furious.</p><p>“What the fuck you think you're doing?“</p><p>Julien lowers his own wand, but not fully.</p><p>“Ron. Didn't know you'd still be here.“</p><p>Weasley's red brows are knitted together.</p><p>“What's your deal with Malfoy? Can't remember anyone wanting to bring him in again.“</p><p>“It's personal, actually.“</p><p>Julien winks at Ron.</p><p>“No need to alert the department.“</p><p>Finally, I break out of my stupor.</p><p>“Let me go,“ I say, voice trembling just a little, and try yanking my arm away.</p><p>Julien won't let me leave. But Weasley sees me struggling, sees the panic on my face.</p><p>“Merlin, Julien. Let him go before I have to turn you in.“</p><p>Julien's face twists into something hideous, contorting his handsome features.</p><p>“He's a bloody Knockturn whore, mate. What I do with him is none of your fucking business.“</p><p>Weasley flicks his wand.</p><p>“Relascio.“</p><p>Julien is wrenched away from me and I stumble to bring some more distance between us.</p><p>“What the fuck!“ Julien shouts, angry eyes on Weasley.</p><p>“It is my bloody business what you do with Malfoy. He's my friend.“</p><p>Julien laughs. Then he spits at Weasley's feet.</p><p>“So he brain-washed you, too, now.“</p><p>Weasley steps closer, until the noses of the two men almost brush.</p><p>“You don't want to fuck with me, man.“</p><p>“I'm not fucking trying to.“</p><p>“Fuck with him, you fuck with me.“</p><p>Weasley draws back and takes my arm, a lot more gently than Julien just did.</p><p>“We understood?“</p><p>Before Julien can answer, I'm pulled into the oppressive darkness of apparition.</p><p>Weasley and I land in front of our flat, swaying lightly before regaining our balance.</p><p>“All good, Ferret?“ Weasley asks me.</p><p>I look up at him and say: “You're such a bloody Gryffindor.“</p><p>Then I throw up all over his Auror robes.</p><p> </p><p>Harry keeps going back and forth between petting my back and glaring at me. It would be funny, if I wasn't so shaken.</p><p>“That fucking arsehole,“ he keeps repeating and Weasley nods as he returns with a fresh shirt on.</p><p>“Sorry about your robes,“ I say sheepishly.</p><p>Weasley grunts and sits down at the table with us, pulling Harry's cup of tea toward him and gulping half of it.</p><p>“What did that fucker do to you?“ he asks me. “I've never seen you that spooked.“</p><p>I go rigid. Harry takes my hand.</p><p>“He... raped me,“ I say flatly.</p><p>Weasley drops the cup. Tea is spilling over the table, but the ginger doesn't seem to notice.</p><p>“No joke?“</p><p>I scowl at him.</p><p>“Why on earth would I joke about that?“</p><p>“Yeah, right.“</p><p>Weasley flicks his wand and vanishes the spilled tea.</p><p>“Fuck, Malfoy. I'm sorry.“</p><p>I shrug lightly, trying to keep the memories flooding in at bay. Weasley looks at Harry.</p><p>“Now I get why you were so admant he doesn't go see his mother alone.“</p><p>When he gazes at me again, he does so with an expression softer than I've ever seen on him.</p><p>“You have to report him. That's not okay.“</p><p>I shake my head, jerky.</p><p>“No. I don't want to.“</p><p>“Why not?“</p><p>“I can't.“</p><p>I swallow, tightening my grip on Harry's fingers.</p><p>“And no one's going to believe me anyway.“</p><p>The fact that Weasley doesn't argue the point says it all.</p><p>“What did you do, exactly?“ Harry asks Weasley. “To Julien, I mean.“</p><p>Weasley recounts the events in short sentences and I pull Harry's hand in my lap so that our forearms are brushing, needing him to ground me.</p><p>The Gryffindor's expression is thoughtful. Angry, of course, but also... worried.</p><p>“Thanks, mate, for protecting Draco.“</p><p>“Merlin's balls, that's my job.“</p><p>But we both know that it's not strictly true. He went out of his way, following Julien out of the building when he couldn't know for sure the man was even following me.</p><p>“Still. But... man, I'm a little worried what Julien's going to do now. I doubt he'll just let it slide.“</p><p>Weasley crosses his arms and leans back.</p><p>“We'll see. He basically admitted he was looking for a go at Malfoy. I don't think he'd like Robards to know about that.“</p><p>The ginger's words send chills down my spine, but I manage to regain an objective perspective.</p><p>“I wouldn't say he basically admitted that. He insinuated that my former profession means I'm fair game.“</p><p>“Well, you're not,“ Harry says and I roll my eyes.</p><p>“Nothing we can do about it now anyway,“ Weasley says. “A beer, anyone?“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I'm smiling as I unlock the door to my flat. If things go as planned, I'll be able to start an internship with a private DADA teacher come next month. Excitement and anticipation are buzzing through me at the thought.</p><p>“I'm home,“ I shout as I shoulder the door shut behind me and step out of my shoes.</p><p>A blurr of platinum hair and lily white skin flings itself at me.</p><p>“Hey, love.“</p><p>Draco grins and then I'm kissed, slender arms wrapping around my neck. I smile and pull him closer, one hand on his narrow hips, another on his back.</p><p>“You're in a good mood,“ I say as Draco mouthes along my jaw. “Any particular reason?“</p><p>“No,“ the Slytherin says and talented fingers are rubbing against the bulge in my pants. I moan and Draco mewls, arching his back.</p><p>I smile into his neck. After sleeping with my Slytherin lover for almost two weeks now (and snogging him senseless for way longer), I've discovered that Draco in bed is as moody as anywhere else. Sometimes, he'll be predatory, all smirks and pushing me up against walls, growling against my mouth. More often though, he's like a kitten, pressing against me and urging me to lift him up, carry him to bed and manhandle him however I like.</p><p>I don't take advantage of his pliantness, even though I'm not going to lie, sometimes it's dificult. I don't think he does it on purpose, but he's he worst tease, the way he'll wrap his legs around my waist, push against me and sigh when I push back against him.</p><p>But I also notice his winces when he thinks I might do something we didn't talk about, might take what he claims I could, but I know he isn't ready to give just yet.</p><p>So I'll wait.</p><p>Afterall, this is pretty good too.</p><p>This, falling on the sofa in a tumble of limbs, sucking bruises into his pale neck while he's moaning, sifting his hands through my hair, canting his hips suggestively.</p><p>“I want you to finger me,“ he pants and I lift my head, dazed and confused and elated.</p><p>“Really? Are you -“</p><p>I'm interrupted by the sound of the door opening. We jump apart, trying to righten our clothes, dampen the blush on our cheeks.</p><p>Ron's look as his eyes land on us makes it clear we haven't been very successful.</p><p>“Not on the bloody sofa,“ he groans. “I sit there sometimes, yeah?“</p><p>“Hey, Ron. All good?“ I ask, willing my erection to finally go away.</p><p>Ron grimaces and shakes his head.</p><p>“Not really. Robards wants to speak with me. Sounds serious and I bet I know what it's about.“</p><p>Draco and I share a look. Guilt and worry is written clearly all over his pretty features.</p><p>Ron seems to catch it too, because he says: “Don't worry, Ferret. No one will come for you.“</p><p>“But what about you? Are you in trouble because of this?“</p><p>With a shrug of his broad, bony shoulders, Ron pads into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge.</p><p>“Let's hope not.“</p><p> </p><p>“Mate, you really don't have to wait here for me. I don't think it'll be that bad.“</p><p>I shove my hands into my pockets and widen my stance, glancing at the polished door to Robard's office.</p><p>“Julien is rich and he's got a lot of influence. I just want to make sure you're okay.“</p><p>Ron rolls his eyes, gives me a pat on the shoulder and opens the door.</p><p>I have to wait for at least twenty minutes, curious eyes staring at me. Some of my old colleagues are chatting me up. Everyone is still surprised about my career change, but I couldn't care less.</p><p>When Ron finally emerges from the office, his face is pale and I know instantly that my worries weren't unfunded.</p><p>“What?“ I ask.</p><p>Ron's eyes are incredulous.</p><p>“They're charging me with assault.“</p><p>“Assault? What the fuck?“</p><p>He laughs and shakes his head.</p><p>“For using that hex on him. Merlin's balls. This is a fucking joke.“</p><p>“Nothing will come of it,“ I say. “It's ridiculous.“</p><p>Ron rubs his face.</p><p>“Yeah, but... Robards seemed to take it seriously. He honestly thinks I've threatened and assaulted Julien without any real reason. <em>And </em>hindered the investigation. Or maybe he just wants to think that, I don't know.“</p><p>“What investigation? I thought Julien was never actually ordered to shadow Draco or whatever.“</p><p>“Robards remained awfully vague about that,“ Ron says darkly. “Probably doesn't want to throw his favourite under the bus.“</p><p>“Fuck,“ I say numbly.</p><p>“Yeah, fuck.“</p><p>Rons steps closer to me, his eyes big.</p><p>“Harry, I could use my job if they really go all the way.“</p><p>I bite my lip.</p><p>“They won't. You're an excellent Auror and Julien is talking shit. They can't sack you for this.“</p><p>Ron swallows and scrubs a hand through his hair.</p><p>“Yeah, no. That would be insane.“</p><p> </p><p>When we get home, Draco is sitting on the sofa, a heap of clothes stacked on the table.</p><p>“Are you... sewing?“ I ask, lifting my brows.</p><p>Draco blushes, a faint pink colouring his cheek.</p><p>“Well, those of us who don't own a wand anymore have to do some things manually, don't they?“</p><p>“I wasn't judging,“ I say.</p><p>“I am,“ Ron chimes in.</p><p>“How was your talk with Robards?“ Draco asks Ron.</p><p>“Not great,“ he answers. “I'll go change.“</p><p>With a rustle of his robes, he disappears into his bedroom. I think he needs a moment alone.</p><p>Pushing some stray shirts out of the way, I sit down next to Draco and kiss his upturned lips.</p><p>“How bad was it?“ he asks, caressing my cheek.</p><p>“Bad. They are really charging him.“</p><p>“With?“</p><p>I tell him about the so-called assault and hindering of investigation. Draco's face pales, even though he doesn't let his emotions show.</p><p>“It's not your fault,“ I say. “You know that.“</p><p>“Of course.“</p><p>I can tell he's lying.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>He arches a brow at me and I pull him in, kissing him again.</p><p>“It's not your fault.“</p><p>“I didn't want to mess things up for Weasley,“ he says quietly.</p><p>“You didn't. Julien did. But I'm sure that Ron will get off quickly. I mean, everyone knows the charges are ridiculous.“</p><p>Draco's dark blond brows draw together high on his forehead.</p><p>“I don't think they do, Harry.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I bristle as Weasley dashes into the room, slamming a thin stack of paper on the kitchen table, so forcefully that Harry's old jumper I'm currently touching up, moves with the motion of the air.</p><p>“A fucking trial. They're having a fucking trial for me.“</p><p>His voice is so full of anger that I instinctively huddle in on myself, hunching my shoulders, ducking my head.</p><p>“I'm sorry,“ I say quietly.</p><p>Weasley notices my stance and sighs.</p><p>“No, I'm not mad at <em>you</em>, Ferret. It's this wanker Julien. If his daddy didn't own half the French Ministry, they wouldn't even listen to the bullshit he's spewing.“</p><p>I blink at Weasley and swallow.</p><p>“I'm still very sorry. I got you in trouble.“</p><p>The Gryffindor drops down on a chair across from me, still dressed in his robes, and rubs his face.</p><p>“No, man. Honestly. But I just... this might cost me my career.“</p><p>He hides his eyes and takes some measured breaths.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do?“ I ask before thinking about it.</p><p>Weasley's eyes zoom in on me, instantly making me uncomfortable.</p><p>“Look, if you... told them what Julien did to you, then that would shine a whole new light on the case. I mean, all I said to them was that it was obvious you were afraid and Julien wasn't on professional business, forcing you to go with him againt your will. But if I could tell them what the actual reason for your fear was – it might change everything.“</p><p>I pale and start shaking.</p><p>“I can't. I can't, s-sorry, but...“</p><p>Weasley takes in my shuddering and squints his eyes for a moment.</p><p>“No, right. Yeah, I get it. It's fine.“</p><p>It's not fine, I know that, but even just the thought of putting what happened on record makes me sicken up. It would be bad enough if I was some witch, just a normal girl that people didn't hate. But I'm me – Malfoy and whore – and I know exactly what people would say. Either that I was making the whole thing up to draw attention and pose as a victim, or that I didn't deserve better.</p><p>I'm not brave enough for this.</p><p> </p><p>“It's gonna be fine, I promise. We'll get you out of this. I'll throw around my weight as the Chosen One, if that's what it takes.“</p><p>My fingers brush the bathroom door, light as feathers and I hold my breath. Harry's voice is muffled, but I can hear every single word.</p><p>“It's not like I think I'll end up in Azkaban. But if I don't come out of there smelling like fucking roses, my career is over.“</p><p>That's Weasley.</p><p>“I know. Fuck, Ron. I'm so sorry.“</p><p>“If Ferret would just come forward...“</p><p>“We can't make him.“</p><p>“Yeah, I know. That's the problem. I don't even have it in me to push him on this one. Because what happened to him was so fucking horrible and most people's reaction to it will be fucking horrible to. I don't think I'd ever forgive me if made him do it. Which is fucking crazy, but whatever.“</p><p>“You're a good friend, Ron. The best.“</p><p>A snort.</p><p>“I'd hope you noticed by now.“</p><p>Harry laughs.</p><p>“I have.“</p><p>I take a breath and then make some noise before I unlock the door and step out of the bathroom.</p><p>“You good to go?“ Harry asks, smiling at me. I respond with a perfect smile of my own.</p><p>“Sure.“</p><p>The Gryffindor takes my hand.</p><p>“See you later, mate,“ he says to Weasley.</p><p> </p><p>My mother is as lifeless as always and today more than ever, I wish she'd open my eyes so I could talk to her.</p><p>It's not a rational desire, since Narcissa Malfoy seldomly gives good advise. She's also not prone to motherly warmth.</p><p>But she might be the only person in this world who I know loves me. Loves me more than anything. And I want to tell her. I need her to listen to me and tell me I can get through anything. Maybe I want her to tell me not to. Perhaps an easy way out is what I hope she'd offer me.</p><p>Pondering this is pointless though, since she's not waking up.</p><p>I only spend about an hour at her bed. Saturdays are always busy and other visitors are casting me nasty glances.</p><p>“Any changes?“ Harry asks as I meet him in the hallway. He slips his hands under my jacket and I rest my chin on his shoulder for a moment.</p><p>“No.“</p><p>“I'm sorry, love.“</p><p>He kisses my temple. I look into his striking eyes.</p><p>“I want to report Julien.“</p><p>Harry's mouth drops open.</p><p>“What? Are -“</p><p>“You shouldn't get your hopes up, Harry,“ I interrupt him. “I doubt my report will change much. They'll disregard it, even if Weasley backs me. Best case scenario is they believe that <em>Weasley </em>believed me. But no one will actually think I'm telling the truth. Or at least admit it, should they.“</p><p>“Love...“</p><p>“But I need to do it anyway. Just so I'll never have to wonder if I could have helped your friend would I have been a littler braver.“</p><p>Harry cups my face in his hands, his eyes pools or green gemstones, open and sincere and <em>thankful</em>.</p><p>“Draco, I'm so fucking proud of you.“</p><p>I shrug with one shoulder.</p><p>“And Ron is your friend, too.“</p><p>I glance at him sideways.</p><p>“I'll be right with you and back your story,“ Harry continues. I shake my head.</p><p>“That's not how it works. You know that, Ex-Auror Potter. You weren't there. You can't prove anything.“</p><p>Harry sighs.</p><p>“That is true. But I can be there for you.“</p><p>“Then let's go.“</p><p>I take his outstretched hand.</p><p>“We will. There is just something I think we should do first.“</p><p> </p><p>Granger's flat is neat and tidy, but not tasteless, which suprises me. She never used to have much fashion sense, so I didn't exactly expect her to excel at interior design. But she does.</p><p>“I missed you,“ Granger says and pulls Harry into a fierce hug, giving me time to admire the bright, open living room. Book shelves take up one entire wall. A grey, fluffy carpet muffles our steps.</p><p>“I missed you too, 'Mione.“</p><p>It took Harry a little bit of convincing until I agreed to talk the procedure through with Granger before we'd actually went.</p><p>“She'll prepare you for everything you need to know.“</p><p>I don't want to talk to Granger about what happened to me, but since I'm about to make it public, I know that I can't dither now.</p><p>“And... Draco. Nice to see you as well.“</p><p>I smile at her, hoping she doesn't mistake my nerves for hostility.</p><p>“Well, you said you needed to talk to me.“</p><p>She leads us to a rather small, elegant sofa, on which Harry and I array ourselves, while Granger sits down into a huge, cozy armchair, crossing her legs.</p><p>Harry looks at me. I nod at him. He can catch her up.</p><p>Granger's eyes widen and a lot of different emotions cross her face as Harry tells her about the rape and about Weasley and the trial, but she keeps her mouth shut until he's finished.</p><p>“I'm so sorry, Draco,“ she says and it sounds like she means it.</p><p>“Thanks,“ I say stiffly.</p><p>“I hoped you could help... you know, talk us through things. I'm sure you'll think of some stuff I didn't.“</p><p>Granger scratches her chin, her brows furrowed.</p><p>“Well, first off... I'm really, really sorry to say this, Draco, but usually, in cases like these... innoccent until proven guilty. And if it's your word against Julien's, I'm afraid we all know who they'll believe.“</p><p>“But I have to try,“ I say hoarsely. “Maybe they'll at least believe that I made Weasley think I was raped. And that he felt like he had to protect me because of it.“</p><p>It's hard to decipher the look on Granger's face.</p><p>“It might put you in danger. If they think you're trying to defame Julien... it's likely they'll let Ron off the hook and target you instead. They'll make it all your fault.“</p><p>My insides clench. Harry lets out an angry noise.</p><p>“They wouldn't. They're not that cruel.“</p><p>Granger shoots him a gentle, but firm look.</p><p>“In cases of sexual assault, the victim is <em>always </em>worse off than the offender. Draco needs to be aware that the chance of them blaming him, calling him a liar and worse, is high.“</p><p>“What is the worst case scenario, what do you think?“ I ask.</p><p>Granger looks at me. Hesitates.</p><p>“If it goes really bad, you might end up in Azkaban for defamation and lying to the Wizengamot.“</p><p>“What the fuck,“ Harry explodes.</p><p>He turns to me.</p><p>“We can't do it. Not if it might mean you'll go to Azkaban.“</p><p>“But Weasley...“</p><p>“Ron won't be arrested for this.“</p><p>“I agree,“ Granger says and I stare at her in astonishment. She arches a brow. “Of course, I don't want Ron to suffer for this, but you'll make a worse target than him.“</p><p>I straighten my spine and clasp my hands between my knees.</p><p>“So there is essentially nothing I can do?“</p><p>Granger pushes some of her wild hair back.</p><p>“We can think about how we might prove you're not lying.“</p><p>“It's so fucked up that the court doesn't allow Veritaserum,“ Harry grumbles.</p><p>“No, it's good. You have no idea how many confessions were forced out of people under the influence of the Serum. What kind of secrets were made public. Also, it's not faultless. There have been cases in which it didn't work,“ I say.</p><p>Granger shifts her weight and glances at me, seemingly uncertain.</p><p>“There is another way,“ she says.</p><p>Harry leans forward a little. “Which is?“</p><p>“Draco, you could give them your memories.“</p><p>Icy water is dropped into my stomach. My hands are clutching at my knees.</p><p>“I...“</p><p>“Memories can be altered,“ Harry says. Granger nods.</p><p>“I'm aware. But it's not easy and to conjure a whole scene out of nothing... no one could reasonably argue that Draco would be able to do something like that. He doesn't have a wand, afterall. And even if he did, there is no way a twenty-one-year old with no additional education after Hogwarts would be able to do that. Dumbledore might have, or Grindlewald, but that's it. I couldn't do it.“</p><p>“But they'd still check, wouldn't they?“ I ask.</p><p>Granger meets my eyes.</p><p>“Yes. And probably more thouroughly than most people.“</p><p>“So his memories would go through several hands.“</p><p>“They might even be shown in court, yes. At least privately to the main jury.“</p><p>I close my eyes and fight the urge to vomit. Snow under my knees. Scratched palms.</p><p>“Draco, I hate to ask this question. I believe you, one hundred percent and <em>I </em>don't think it matters, but... they will.“</p><p>I swallow and look at her. When she doesn't continue, I say: “Go ahead.“</p><p>She takes a breath.</p><p>“Did you actually <em>say </em>no? Did you fight him?“</p><p>“Hermione, come on.“</p><p>Harry is reaching for my hand, but I don't take it. My eyes close. I shake my head.</p><p>“What did you say? Did you say anything?“</p><p>“I told him I'm not working. To let go of me when he first grabbed me. And then, I think I said – I said <em>not here</em>.“</p><p>Suddenly, grime and foulness is covering my body again. It's hard to breathe.</p><p>“I told Harry that it wasn't that big of a deal,“ I blurt, blood thrumming in my ears, hands shaking. “I said I'm a whore and that it's not really rape because I can't actually...“</p><p>Granger leans forward and puts a hand on my arm.</p><p>“Draco. It was rape. You didn't give consent. Every person with even just a hint of reason will know that. But, unfortunately, the law isn't always based on reason. And the fact that you did not use the actual word <em>No </em>or did your best to fight him – which would have been very difficult without a wand – complicates things.“</p><p>She squeezes my arm and her touch is strangely comforting.</p><p>“Those are rules implemented by arseholes, arrogant men, but we have to play by them.“</p><p>I nod slowly.</p><p>“I know. Thank you.“</p><p>She smiles sadly and pulls back.</p><p>“So what do we do?“ Harry asks.</p><p>Granger looks at me.</p><p>“Is there anyone who might have seen or heard something?“ she asks.</p><p>I look at me knees.</p><p>“My mother did.“</p><p>Stunned silence.</p><p>“What? But that's... awesome, for the case. If you have a witness, it'll be way harder for them to dismiss you.“</p><p>“Even if it's my mother?“</p><p>Granger nods.</p><p>“It still wouldn't be a sure win, definitely, but if Mrs. Malfoy testifies, we'd have a chance.“</p><p>“I hate to blow it, but... Draco's mother is in a coma. And on top of that, I'm not sure she'd be a reliable witness.“</p><p>Harry flinches. His eyes are full of apology.</p><p>“I'm sorry, Draco.“</p><p>Granger doesn't appear too put out though.</p><p>“I'll look more closely into her condition. If she wakes up before the trial, I think we have a chance.“</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me what you're thinking about,“ I say quietly, tenderly petting Draco's hair.</p><p>The moonlight shining through the window of our shared room makes his fair skin glow, but the shine doesn't reach his eyes.</p><p>“I'm thinking it's hopeless,“ he says.</p><p>“Don't say that.“</p><p>“It's the truth. Even <em>if </em>my mother wakes up, our chances are barely existent.“</p><p>I stroke a finger over his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“I'm here too, don't forget that. People listen to me. They usually believe me. I can put a lot of pressure on the court.“</p><p>Draco blinks at me, sad, grey eyes dulled.</p><p>“I don't think it will be enough.“</p><p>I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.</p><p>“Just wait and see.“</p><p> </p><p>When my mother finally wakes up three days later, I think everyone takes it as a divine sign.<br/>Everyone but me. I bath in the delight of having my mother back, even though she's still weak and falls asleep every couple minutes, but I don't think it will change our situation much. Or at all.</p><p>Still. I have to try.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For the trial scene in this chapter, I didn't really follow any kind of protocol (as I'm sure you can tell lol). I just tried to make it interesting instead of drawn out and boring.<br/>Thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos! It really means a lot to me!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is rigid, tense and jumpy when we arrive at the Ministry. We have to wait for an agonizing hour until he is brought in.</p><p>He takes my hand as we're finally led into a barren room. The Aurors taking Draco's report are older and I hardly know them. Maybe it's my presence, but they're civil to Draco, if not exactly warm.</p><p>He's holding my hand all the while he's talking and I'm holding my tongue and my tears back. When Draco is done, the Aurors exchange a look I can't decipher. They've let him talk without interruption, but now I guess it is time for questions.</p><p>“You said you told Mr. Mathieu that you were 'off work'. But you did not actually tell him you didn't want to engage in intercourse?“</p><p>I grind my teeth, but keep quiet. The Auror who asked is a wizard in his sixties, clean shaven and with tired eyes. His question didn't have any edge to it, yet I'm still angry he's asking.</p><p>Draco lifts his chin a little higher.</p><p>“It was implied.“</p><p>“It was implied you didn't take clients outside the club you're working at. But couldn't it be that it wasn't clear you also included that you weren't interested in sexual engagement outside of work?“</p><p>The witch's question sounds merely factual as well, but this time, I let out a tiny noise of anger.</p><p>“No, that couldn't be,“ Draco says and a fierce surge of pride overcomes me at his confidence. His strength. “I clearly meant that I wanted him to leave. Also, I do not work at the <em>Serpent's Den </em>any longer.“</p><p>“You did though at the time, correct?“ the wizard asks.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>“Mr. Malfoy, you told us you said <em>Not here</em>, when Mr. Mathieu touched you. Doesn't that insinuate you were willing to take things somewhere more private? That you were willing to have sex with Mr. Mathieu?“</p><p>“That's not -“ I blurt, but I'm stopped by the wizard.</p><p>“You're not to speak. Otherwise, we'll have to remove you, Mr. Potter.“</p><p>Draco next to me swallows.</p><p>“I didn't mean it that way. I... was scared. I tried to hold him off.“</p><p>“Well, but it sounded that way. Your choice of words clearly implied you were at least considering.“</p><p>Draco pales.  Before I can interfere again, the witch clears her throat.</p><p>“Edgar,“ she says, warning in her voice. “You're making assumptions.“</p><p>She looks at Draco, her gaze neutral, but I think I catch a compassionate flicker in her eyes.</p><p>“Mr. Malfoy, can you tell me why you think your words didn't sound like an invitation?“</p><p>“I – he was acting as if he planned to... take me right there. I was scared and I know I sounded scared.“</p><p>I clench my fist and try not to lose it. My magic is flaring, crackling on my skin.</p><p>“When Mr. Mathieu pushed you down, did you try to fight him?“ the witch asks.</p><p>“No, I didn't.“</p><p>“Because you wanted him to,“ Edgar probes.</p><p>“No! Because he had a wand and I knew I had no chance. Fighting it would have only made things worse.“</p><p>“But wouldn't you have at least tried to scream for help?“</p><p>Draco swallows. Stays silent.</p><p>“It sounds to me like you weren't actually overpowered.“</p><p>“Edgar,“ the witch says sharply, turning fully to her partner. Her dark eyes are blazing at him. “This is a report, not a cross-examination. One more of those statements and I'll continue this alone.“</p><p>Before the clearly offended Edgar can answer her, she turns back to Draco.</p><p>“Apologies, Mr. Malfoy. So you said that you didn't fight him because you thought he was stronger. Why is that?“</p><p>“Well, everyone with a wand is stronger than I am.“</p><p>The witch nods and flicks her own wand, the quill adding something to her notes.</p><p>“You're not allowed to carry one anymore, is that right?“</p><p>“Yes, it is.“</p><p>“Alright. Moving forward... You stated that Mr. Mathieu approached you two more times after the incident with, how you put it, clear intent.“</p><p>She asks Draco how he was sure what Julien's intentions were, if he was removing him from St. Mungo's against his will. Edgar joins her. His questions stay professional, this time.</p><p>“Finally, you said that you told Mr. Potter as well as Auror Weasley about the alleged assault,“ he says.</p><p>“Yes, that is correct.“</p><p>“Why did you?“</p><p>Draco blinks.</p><p>“What kind of stupid question is that?“ I hiss.</p><p>“Mr. Potter,“ the witch warns me.</p><p>“I told them because I needed to talk about it, I guess. It... was affecting me.“</p><p>Draco looks away. He doesn't like talking about his emotions.</p><p>“Were you hoping they could protect you from Mr. Mathieu?“ the witch asks.</p><p>“That wasn't the main reason why I told them in the first place, but it certainly played a part. After he approached me at St. Mungo's, I knew he was planning on... doing it again.“</p><p>“Sexually assaulting you again,“ the witch clarifies.</p><p>“Yes,“ Draco says quietly.</p><p>“Very well, Mr. Malfoy,“ she says. “We have filed your report and will inform you as soon as it has been looked into. It shouldn't be too long, considering it might affect Auror Weasley's trial.“</p><p>Draco nods.</p><p>“Alright. Thank you.“</p><p>The witch smiles at him and holds out her hand.</p><p>“Thank you for your courage,“ she says, startling both me and Draco. Edgar grunts something indefinable.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Harry is wearing his black coat that makes him look like a secret agent, at least in my eyes, but the nerves curling in my stomach won't let me appreciate it. The air is almost warm, too warm for a coat like that, yet chills are running down my spine, my arms.</p><p>“This Edgar hated me,“ I say, my steps in synch with Harry's.</p><p>We didn't talk much about the report after we came home yesterday. I was exhausted and Harry sensed that I wasn't in the mood for questions and deep talk. Instead, we napped on the sofa, ate dinner with Weasley who showered me with <em>thank you, Ferret</em>s and then fooled around in our bed. Harry blew me, slow and sweet, and we both pretended not to notice that I was crying a little.</p><p>“He's a pillock,“ Harry says, as if it was an undeniable truth, a certain fact of life. It makes me smile.</p><p>“The witch though... what was her name?“</p><p>“Feyre Anaka,“ I say.</p><p>“Right. She was on your side. That's good. She'll make sure your report comes through unaltered and with the right focus.“</p><p>I just nod and shove my hands into my pockets.</p><p>“I hate that they're questioning my mother,“ I say. “Of course, I understand it is necessary, but... I really wish she was spared that.“</p><p>Harry tugs one of my hands out and laces his fingers through mine.</p><p>“I know, love.“</p><p>I sigh.</p><p>“Do you think they'll be hard on her? She's still so very weak.“</p><p>Harry squeezes my hand reassuringly.</p><p>“I think they'll be gentle. Or at least nice.“</p><p>I'm not so sure about that, but I don't object.</p><p> </p><p>Neither Harry nor I am allowed in the room while they question my mother, so I spend thirty minutes pacing the corridor, nearly going mad. Harry doesn't try to make me sit or talk, which I'm thankful for.</p><p>As soon as the Aurors clear out, heavy steps on the floor and curt nods in Harry's direction, I burst into my mother's room.</p><p>On first sight, I know she has cried and my heart clenches painfully.</p><p>“Mother.“</p><p>I fold myself into the chair next to her bed and kiss her hand.</p><p>“Are you alright?“</p><p>She swallows thickly.</p><p>“Oh, my darling.“</p><p>Her hand lifts, shaky and weak, to brush a strand of hair out of my face.</p><p>“Were they being rude?“ I whisper.</p><p>“I wouldn't have cared. All that matters to me is that you are safe. And that justice will come for the monster that dared to put his hands on you.“</p><p>I swallow. My mother doesn't know about my past profession and I pray that I can keep it that way. If she knew, I'm not sure what she'd do. Hate me or herself.</p><p>Probably both.</p><p>She doesn't even know I'm gay. I think that would be enough of a shock.</p><p>I can see exhaustion weighing her down, making her eyelids drop.</p><p>“Rest now,“ I say.</p><p>“My darling,“ she murmurs, before she drifts off again.</p><p> </p><p>It's early morning, but I'm already wide awake, when the Ministry owl taps impatiently against the bedroom window. Harry groans and tries snuggling closer to me, his hand running up my thigh, but I slip out of his hold and let the owl in. She takes off immediately, leaving me alone with the daunting letter in my hand.</p><p>“What is it?“ Harry asks, propped on one elbow, voice rough from sleep.</p><p>“It's from the Ministry.“</p><p>He crawls over and I sit down on the edge of the bed. The letter is trembling in my hands. Harry rests his chin on my shoulder, looking at my hands.</p><p>“Open it,“ he says softly.</p><p>I take a breath, then break the seal.</p><p>My eyes scan the letter and my heart skips a beat, then starts racing.</p><p>“They'll have a trial,“ I murmur, lips strangely numb.</p><p>“That's good, Draco. That means they're taking it seriously.“</p><p>He turns his head, trying to look at me.</p><p>“Maybe we'll get justice.“</p><p>I swallow.</p><p>“Maybe. Or maybe they just want to have it public and official when they rob me of the last traces of credibility I might have had.“</p><p>Harry's arms wrap around me.</p><p>“They won't, darling. I won't let it happen.“</p><p>“You have no say in this.“</p><p>I lean against him, relishing the feelings of his strong arms. He presses a kiss to my cheek, lingering.</p><p>“It will be alright.“</p><p>My only answer to that is a skeptical grunt.</p><p>“They set it before Weasley's.“</p><p>“That only makes sense, since the outcome will affect Ron's trial.“</p><p>Harry pulls back and stretches his back. His spine cracks.</p><p>“Also, don't you think it's about time you call him Ron? You're literally going to trial for him.“</p><p>I turn my head to glare at Harry.</p><p>“I don't think we're that kind of close.“</p><p>The Gryffindor rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Whatever.“</p><p>I turn away again and look at the letter in my lap.</p><p>“Hey.“</p><p>Harry noses at my neck.</p><p>“It'll be okay.“</p><p>“You don't know that.“</p><p>“You'll have me, no matter what.“</p><p>I turn around, pulling one leg on the bed, looking at him.</p><p>“You're stupid, Potter.“</p><p>He grins widely.</p><p>“Yeah, for you, I am.“</p><p>Then he kisses me and pulls me with him, his tongue dancing with mine until all thoughts of the trial have vanished from my brain.</p><p> </p><p>On the morning of the trial, I puke two times. Harry and Weasley keep hovering, doting on me, until I finally snap and yell at them to leave me the hell alone.</p><p>They do, until it's time to go.</p><p>The procedure stretches over most of the day. I have to wait an hour until it's time for my testimony. Having to sit on that chair and tell a whole room of people gazing at me in disdain what Julien did to me, is almost worse than waiting for a john to enter the room.</p><p>The questions they ask me are harsh at times, but nothing unexpected comes up. When I'm done with my testimony, I'm allowed to sit down between Weasley and Harry, shaking lightly and incredibly relieved that it's over.</p><p>My mother couldn't come, obviously, but they read out the statement she made.</p><p>After that, I think it's time for Julien to talk and I brace myself for seeing him, clutching Harry's hand tightly.</p><p>But to my surprise, there is another witness. It's someone I barely know.</p><p>“Auror Parker, please sit,“ Shacklbolt says.</p><p>It takes me a moment to recognize the Auror that took me to the Ministry that night. The one that said I should come back if I changed my mind and wanted to report an assault. Not old, but definitely not young. Average build and kind eyes.</p><p>His testimony doesn't take long, but it leaves an impression. This wizard, who clearly doesn't know anything about me, takes a very clear stand, while remaining completely calm and polite.</p><p>“It seemed obvious to me that Mr. Malfoy had been assaulted. I've seen victims of various kinds of sexual assault before and he showed all the signs.“</p><p>“Could you name those signs, please?“</p><p>Parker resumes in his calm manner, telling the court about my bruises and 'empty stare', about my twitchiness and unwillingness to look anyone in the eyes.</p><p>When he says he thinks I had blood on my jeans, I have to close my eyes and pretend I don't exist, so not to die of humiliation, but it's clear that his words have an impact.</p><p>Harry's hand tightens his hold on mine, warm and secure.</p><p>“They believe him,“ Weasley says quietly to Harry. “Finally some luck. Parker is one of the best. Everyone respects him.“</p><p>After Parker's testimony, it's finally time for Julien's.</p><p>It's hard to listen to him. He plays fully to my whore persona, tells the court that, yes, he did have sexual intercourse with me, but I wanted it.</p><p>I have to say, I wasn't completely prepared for this. I thought he'd deny it, say it's all lies, but apparently, he thinks that's too risky. Perhaps because of Parker, I'm not sure.</p><p>Hearing him tell the judges and everyone else in the room how I was asking for it, how I begged for it, isn't easy. I wish I could cover Harry's ears.</p><p>This time, with Julien, it's not true. But I <em>have </em>begged and asked for it before. So many of the johns would tell the same story and they'd be right.</p><p>“Auror Parker testified that Mr. Malfoy had been bleeding rectally. That is an unusual occurence after consensual sex. How do you explain that?“</p><p>I want to die. Vanish from the surface of earth or at least move continents, somewhere no one recognizes my face.</p><p>“He wanted it rough,“ Julien says.</p><p>Harry's teeth are grinding and Weasley mutters something along the lines of: “I'll show you rough.“</p><p>“How do you know? Did he ask you?“</p><p>Julien hesitates for a moment.</p><p>“Yes. He did.“</p><p>“Fucking liar.“</p><p>It's Weasley who shouts it, not Harry or me. I gaze at him in astonishment. Shacklebolt sends a warning glare his way. Harry puts a hand on Weasley's knee.</p><p>They ask him more questions, but it's more or less all said. After Julien, they call Dawson on the stand, his brother.</p><p>It's obvious that he hates being here. I barely remember him as one of the other Aurors present when I was brought in that night, dazed and desperate to see my mother.</p><p>“Auror Parker said that Mr. Malfoy was showing obvious signs of having suffered through a sexual assault.“</p><p>Shacklebolt lists the signs again that Parker mentioned.</p><p>“Did you notice similar things?“ he asks in the end.</p><p>Dawson stares at the ground.</p><p>“No.“</p><p>“No, you didn't notice those signs? Did you have less contact with him than Auror Parker did?“</p><p>“It was about the same amount.“</p><p>“So you say you'd have noticed them if the signs would have been there.“</p><p>Silence fills the room. I can see Julien staring at his brother.</p><p>“I... don't know.“</p><p>Both Gryffindors are looking at Dawson with rapt attention.</p><p>“What impression did you have of Mr. Malfoy?“</p><p>Another silence.</p><p>“Well... he was worried about his mother.“</p><p>“Is that all?“</p><p>Dawson stays quiet. Shacklebolt asks a few other questions, but Dawson doesn't make a clear statement. I can see Harry biting back a smile.</p><p>Weasley doesn't, but when Dawson leaves, he looks at him with something like reluctant respect.</p><p>“He tried,“ Harry says. “I think he wanted to do the right thing.“</p><p>“He still lied,“ Weasley points out.</p><p>“Julien is his brother,“ I say. “It would have been strange, had he sold him out.“</p><p>Weasley shuffles on the hard bench.</p><p>“I guess.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I am glad that we don't have to wait too long for the verdict. Ron is growing more and more gloomy with every passing minute, while Draco is a tight ball of anxiety, hidden beneath a porcelain mask of indifference.</p><p>Kingsley has us all rise to our feet and while I can't keep still, Draco could almost pass as a statue.</p><p>The blood is thrumming so loud in my ears that I almost miss it when Kingsley finally gets to the point. But the words: “The defendant is found not guilty,“ get through, falling into my stomach as heavy rocks.</p><p>The defendant is found not guilty. Fucking Julien is going to get away with it.</p><p>“Bullshit,“ Ron mutters under his breath. Draco remains completely silent, while murmurs and whispers are rising in the court room. It's hard to determine a consensus. I think there might not be one. Many people appear rather indifferent. Some wear self-satisfied, smug grins, like a yellow haired wizard clapping loudly. But some are also sporting frowns. Even shaking their heads.</p><p>“Fuck that. Let's go home,“ Ron says and takes Draco's arm, who follows him without protest.</p><p>We're among the first ones leaving the room. As Ron strides toward the lift, clearly eager to leave the dark underground corridors behind, I slow my steps.<br/>Julien has appeared, grinning at the wizard with the disgustingly bright hair.</p><p>“Hey, Julien.“</p><p>At least half a dozen people turn their heads, following me with their eyes as I approach the smug wizard. I don't give a damn.</p><p>Before Julien can open his mouth, I have my wand pointed at his throat.</p><p>“You come near him again, you even so much as <em>look </em>in his direction, and I'll kill you. Hear me?“</p><p>Julien lifts his brows, but the underlying fear in his features is obvious.</p><p>“Chill out.“</p><p>“Oh, I'm super chill. I'd be even more chill if I never had to see your stupid fucking face again.“</p><p>People are staring. Unnatural silence has settled over the corridor, only disturbed by the chatter of the witches and wizards still in the court room.</p><p>“What the fuck, Harry.“</p><p>Julien looks seriouly incredulous. Angry and upset. He should be scared.</p><p>“You're really going to be protecting a Death Eater whore?“</p><p>The tip of my wand digs into his neck. Still, no one moves to stop me, even though I can hear whispers now, distressed and captivated by the scene I'm making.</p><p>“I am. And you better stop calling him that or I'll see that you never set foot into your office again.“</p><p>Julien's gaze goes over my shoulder. I turn just enough for Kingsley to appear in my peripheral vision. Julien doesn't embarrass himself be outright calling for the Minister, but he does stare quite obviously.</p><p>Kingsley looks at me, then turns pointedly away.</p><p>I grin and lower my wand.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>I keep my hand on Harry's arm, still stunned by the stunt he just pulled. Julien didn't dare looking at me, but I'm still eager to leave this place behind. Everyone is staring at me and most of them probably think I should have been thrown into Azkaban for even trying to drag an Auror's name through the mud.</p><p>„Mr. Malfoy.“</p><p>I flinch and turn. The Minister is waiting for me and my stomach drops. I thought he was gone already. Harry tenses next to me, readying himself for another fight.</p><p>„Yes, Minister?“</p><p>Shacklebolt strides toward me, his dark eyes calm and his stance radiating strength, but not intentionally intimidating.</p><p>„I wanted to let you know that we've reevaluated the punishment set for you three and a half years ago and came to the conclusion it's not appropriate anymore. You'll be free to carry a wand of your liking as soon as you've recieved an official permission. I'll send it to you during the next days.“</p><p>My breath hitches and I lose my composure in front of the Minister for Magic. Harry breaks out into a wide grin.</p><p>Shacklebolt smoothes down his purple robes.</p><p>„You surely understand that we had to impose some restrictions on your spellwork though. No curses of any kind and only hexes of the third degree. You should look up what exactly that includes. Should you disregard your restrictions, you'll get one warning. The second offence and your wand will be taken away for a month. Third strike and you'll lose your permission.“</p><p>Tears are gathering in my eyes.</p><p>I'll get my wand back. My freedom.</p><p>„Thank you, Minister.“</p><p>Shacklbolt nods graciously.</p><p>„Your boyfriend has been quite insistant. Also... I believe the Ministry ows you after what happened in court today.“</p><p>Before Harry or I can answer to that, the Minister strides away and I'm left with a heady feeling. The best one.</p><p>Hope.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“I still can't fucking believe it!“</p><p>Ron slams the fridge shut, stormy expression and wand sticking out of his back pocket.</p><p>“It was to be expected,“ Draco says.</p><p>I look at my boyfriend. His posture is regal as always, his chin held high and his demeanor calm, but I can see a sadness lurking in his eyes. Resignatinon tipping into fatigue. But every once in a while, his eyes light up. I know it's when he remembers that he'll get his wand back.</p><p>I sit on the chair next to him, whole body turned toward him, and take his hand.</p><p>“They are fucking arseholes for not convicting Julien, but I still think that wasn't a loss today.“</p><p>Smokey grey eyes find mine.</p><p>“I think many people in that court believed you. And many of them weren't happy with the verdict at all.“</p><p>“So it might have still helped?“</p><p>I nod emphathetically, but it's Ron who answers.</p><p>“For sure. They'll believe me when I say I believed you. And I'll tell them that they were bloody wrong to let Julien off the hook.“</p><p>The ghost of a smile appears on Draco's lips.</p><p>“It appears like the selflessness of Gryffindors borders on self-destructiveness.“</p><p>Ron grins.</p><p>“You think I'm selfless, Ferret?“</p><p>One arched eyebrow is fired at him.</p><p>“Only on rare occasions.“</p><p> </p><p>After a rather quiet dinner, I take a shower to wash off the strains and disappointments of the day, hoping the hot water might burn it all away. When I return to the bedroom only clad in sweatpants, my hair a wet mess, I find Draco sitting cross-legged on the bed.</p><p>I join him, legs stretched out in front of me.</p><p>“You okay?“</p><p>I lightly stroke down Draco's arm. The Slytherin turns to me, the moonlight painting his eyes in a breathtaking silver.</p><p>“Yes. I just... hope that Weasley's trial goes well.“</p><p>I inch closer to him, leaning in and breathing my own shampoo on his hair.</p><p>“Don't you maybe want to talk about your own trial first? Or the fact you'll get your wand back?“</p><p>A beautiful smile lights up Draco's features and the thought crosses my mind that this is what angels must look like.</p><p>“Not particularly.“</p><p>One of Draco's pale hands comes up and cards through my hair.</p><p>“Are you sure?“</p><p>“I am. The trial went better than I expected and now I'd really like to not think about Julien anymore.“</p><p>I smile and brush a kiss to his temple.</p><p>“I can work with that.“</p><p>Draco turns until he can kiss me, one arm wrapping around my neck, the other cradling my jaw. I return the kiss, my tongue teasing his lips, and pull him in by his waist. Draco swings one leg over my thighs, settling astride my lap, kissing me deeply. Slipping my hands under his thin night shirt to caress his smooth skin, I grip his hips. Draco pulls back just enough so that our lips aren't touching anymore, breathing the same air, foreheads brushing.</p><p>“Fuck me, Harry.“</p><p>My already hard cock starts throbbing painfully. I stare up into his mesmerizing eyes.</p><p>“You want me to?“</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>He pulls his shirt off in one fluent motion, then immediately puts his mouth back on mine, kisses growing urgent.</p><p>It's hard parting long enough to get rid of our pants, an annoying layer of fabric separating our heated bodies.</p><p>“Fuck, you're beautiful,“ I say roughly as I push Draco flat on his back, hovering over him, mouthing at his neck, then his chest.</p><p>Draco is trembling, his hands fluttery and needy, his hips canting. I suck a bruise into his throat, one hand stroking his leaking erection. Draco moans, squirming under my hands.</p><p>“Please, Harry.“</p><p>I wandlessly conjure lube (a skill I spent hours perfecting) and start opening him up with gentle, but sure fingers. Draco is writhing underneath me, clutching at my back, his head tilted back. Thin, silvery streaks run out of the corners of his eyes into his blond hair.</p><p>“Everything alright, Kitten?“</p><p>I nose at his jaw and Draco spreads his legs even wider, my cock nudging his trembling thigh.</p><p>“Please, fuck me.“</p><p>I slip one arm under his thigh, until he is bent almost in half. Lacing our fingers together above his head, in one messy, jerky movement, I push inside him.</p><p>“Fuck.“</p><p>My mouth falls open at the sensation of Draco's tight heat gripping me. The Slytherin lets out a sweet, broken moan, one hand clenching around my biceps.</p><p>“Harry,“ he breathes.</p><p>I force myself to take my time, slowly pressing in inch by inch. When I'm finally fully sheathed, I think I might pass out from bliss.</p><p>Draco is shaking, his breathing ragged. I try to rein in my desire, bending my head to kiss him. He sighs against my mouth and cants his hips just a little in clear invitation.</p><p>I rock into him slowly, drawing long, keening moans from the Slytherin's lips. Despite the measured pace, the heat is building quickly in my belly, my thighs, and I disentangle our hands to start working Draco's cock as I start thrusting in earnest. His silver eyes are on me, his mouth open and he looks so beautiful in the moonlight that I almost can't bear it.</p><p>“Come for me, Draco,“ I say and Draco does, his eyes rolling back, spine arching. As he tightens around me, moaning my name, I follow him over the edge, spilling inside his pliant body.</p><p>“Oh, damn.“</p><p>My heart is still pounding, but a bone deep satisfaction has overcome me as I lie on top of Draco, his arms wrapping around my back, one hand petting my hair.</p><p>With great effort, I lift my head to gaze into Draco's eyes.</p><p>“Love?“</p><p>He smiles, but there are fresh tears on in his cheeks. Carefully, I prop myself up, ease out of him and roll to the side, taking his hands and entangling our legs.</p><p>“Was it too soon? Too much?“</p><p>Anxiety is gnawing at my stomach, despite the post-orgasmic glow still singing in my veins.</p><p>“No, you idiot,“ Draco says. “I'm just...“</p><p>He doesn't finish that sentence and I don't make him. Instead, I kiss him. His cheeks, the tip of his nose. His lips.</p><p>Draco smiles, his lashes fluttering.</p><p>“Sleep with me,“ I murmur.</p><p>“I just did.“</p><p>I pull him close, fitting my body perfectly to his, and pull the covers over both of us. Draco sighs, his body warm and relaxed in my arms.</p><p>“Draco?“ I murmur, kissing the shell of his ear.</p><p>“Hm.“</p><p>“I love you.“</p><p>For a moment, the Slytherin stops breathing. His first exhale is long and measured. An absolution. For him or me, I can't say.</p><p>He lifts my hand that was holding his to his lips. Kisses it, first the knuckles, then the palm. Dropping it again, he snuggles even closer to me.</p><p>“I'll sleep with you.“</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The day of Weasley's trial is sunny, with a certain chill in the air. I'm, as usual, the first one awake and open all the windows of our flat until I can't bear the cold anymore.</p><p>When Harry pads into the kitchen on bare feet, wearing his ratty sweatpants and one of my shirts that is too small for him, stretched tight over his biceps, I instantly feel warmer.</p><p>“Hey, Kitten.“</p><p>He kisses me, then gets started on breakfast.</p><p>“You do realize that we're not making this an official petname,“ I say, watching the water in the kettle starting to boil.</p><p>“Why not? It suits you.“</p><p>Harry cracks a fourth egg into the pan, the sizzling sound filling the kitchen.</p><p>“It does <em>not</em>. Malfoys are not <em>kittens</em>, Potter.“</p><p>He grins.</p><p>“You didn't seem to mind it so much last night.“</p><p>I can't quite suppress the flush on my cheeks. Last night. Harry whispering: “Turn over, Kitten.“ His mouth between my legs.</p><p>I roll my eyes, but there is no hiding from him.</p><p>I bite my lip.</p><p>“What you did last night...“</p><p>Harry glances at me, crooked smile on his lips. His eyes are gleaming.</p><p>“What exactly do you mean?“ he asks, feigning innoccence.</p><p>My glare doesn't seem to impress him.</p><p>“Licking me,“ I say and can't fathom why I would sound embarrassed. I've been a sex worker, for fuck's sake. Things like this should not be awkward for me.</p><p>“Ah, yes. That. What about it?“</p><p>Harry's grin widens and he puts the eggs on a plate.</p><p>“Just – why did you do it? I mean...“</p><p>I pause, trying to put my feelings in words.</p><p>“How did you come up with it? Did you want to please me?“</p><p>Harry blinks at me, setting the plate down. I have his full attention now and kind of wished I hadn't.</p><p>“I always want to please you.“</p><p>His voice is so genuine that my heart almost breaks.</p><p>“Besides, it's not like I didn't enjoy it myself. I know some blokes aren't into rimming, but I like it. Maybe giving it even more than receiving.“</p><p>He eyes me curiously.</p><p>“Have you never done it before?“</p><p>I shrug, trying to appear cooler than I am.</p><p>“I've done it to others, but only a handful of times. And, no. I haven't... ever been on the receiving and of things. Regarding rimming, at least.“</p><p>“Well, you seemed to like it.“</p><p>That is an understatement and we both know it.</p><p>“I did.“</p><p>He didn't even fuck me yesterday. I expected him to when he asked me to turn, but he didn't. Part of me was glad – having him inside me two days ago certainly makes it under the top three of best feelings ever, but it was quite intense. I'm not sure it would not have been a little too much yesterday.</p><p>A thought crosses my mind.</p><p>“Do you want me to do it to you?“ I ask him. Maybe that's why he was so generous.</p><p>Harry smiles and puts the plate with the eggs on the table. That means Weasley will probably appear in no more than five minutes. The clattering of dishes usually motivates him to finally leave his bed.</p><p>“If you'd like to, definitely. But that's not why I did it to you.“</p><p>My lover turns to me and cradles my face in his hands. After years of hiding, who'd have thought I'd be so easily caught?</p><p>“Is it really so hard to believe for you that I do things simply to make you happy?“</p><p>I answer honestly.</p><p>“Yes.“</p><p>A deep sadness crosses Harry's features and I hate myself for putting it there. But before I can make it right again, Harry's lips curve upward.</p><p>“Well, I guess then I'll just have to prove it to you.“</p><p>We kiss, the sweetness of it turning into passion, when Weasley enters. Harry gives an annoying grunt, but then remembers the day and turns to his friend.</p><p>“How are you holding up?“</p><p>Weasley produces an unidentifiable noise of chagrin and annoyance, then sits and starts wolving down Harry's eggs.</p><p> </p><p>No visitors are allowed at Weasley's trial. I'm honestly not sure how that makes sense – why everyone who felt inclined could watch me getting taken apart on the stand, having to spill the ugliness of my rape all over the cold stones, but no one is allowed to watch an Auror getting taken a crack at.</p><p>Harry says it's a good thing. If Kingsley wants to keep things official, but private, that might mean he doesn't want the press to blow it out of proportion.</p><p>A grace that I did not get granted, but I don't work myself up about it. Whenever Harry gets a hold of a Prophet, calling me a liar and a slut, he burns it with a flick of his wand. I go the old fashioned way, tossing the paper into the trash where it belongs.</p><p>Harry, Granger and I are waiting for Weasley in the atrium. The two Gryffindors are subtly shielding me from glares and whispers. The looks Harry throws everyone he catches even so much as uttering my name intimidates most of the passerby to stay quiet and keep their eyes straight ahead.</p><p>When Weasley finally heads toward us, my nervousness is reaching its peak. I'm almost embarrassed that I care so deeply about the outcome of Weasley's trial. One could mistake it for compassion, guilt or even selflessness, but I know better. Somehow, this trial has become a symbol for my redemption. If Weasley loses his job because of me, I don't think anyone would ever forget or forgive it. Least of all me.</p><p>I know, intellectually, that it wasn't my fault that Julien raped me. But I can't help but think that in the end, I <em>am </em>to blame. No one forced me to prostitute myself. There weren't really any other alternatives, but I walked into the club on my own two feet, every day for more than two years. No one locked me in my room. None of my johns had to tie me to the bed to force me into submission (even though some liked to do it anyway).</p><p>And it wasn't Julien's fault that my father and Voldemort took his sister from him in the most brutal way.</p><p>Granger pushes up on her tiptoes to see better, while Harry and I hold our breaths.</p><p>One look at Weasley's face and the outcome is clear. His grin is wide enough to light up the whole Ministry.</p><p>“Probation,“ he says, not the type for keeping anyone in suspense. “And Kingsley says that if I stay clear of trouble during that month, he'll strike it from my record.“</p><p>“Congrats,“ Harry says, laughing and Granger bounces on her feet, smiling from ear to ear.</p><p>Harry claps on Weasley's back, then the two men hug properly.</p><p>“Merlin's balls, I was fucking scared,“ Weasley admits.</p><p>He turns to Granger, who is still smiling. Something rosy, like a blush, is coating her cheeks.</p><p>“I'm so happy for you,“ she says and the two of them hug, Weasley's nose taking on an unhealthy, red colour. My eyes flicker to Harry, who is watching his friends with an expression of mild worry and giddy excitement.</p><p>Rather suddenly, Weasley steps out of the embrace and faces me. I swallow and glance up into his earnest, freckled face, still a little red and beaming with happiness.</p><p>“I'm very glad it went well,“ I say, stiffly. The words are so weak compared to the uncomfortable feelings swirling in my chest.</p><p>Weasley grins broadly.</p><p>“Thanks, Ferret.“</p><p>Taking me by surprise, he leans in for a hug. Not as tightly as he hugged the other two, but it's still by far the closest physical contact I've had with anyone but Harry since the last john. Or since Julien, I assume.</p><p>I blink, awkwardly patting his back and bearing the touch, not sure if I'm freaked out or not. Just when I think I have to escape now, Weasley pulls back.</p><p>“Kingsley believed you. I mean, he never said the words, but it was obvious that he did. Robards and some other Auror you don't know would have sacked me, just for associating with you. And because Julien funds half of the department, of course. But Kingsley was having none of it.“</p><p>Weasley's expression grows serious.</p><p>“You fucking saved me, Malfoy.“</p><p>I blink, eyes darting away, shifting uncomfortably.</p><p>“I believe it was the other way around.“</p><p>“Then let's just call it even, shall we?“</p><p>Granger has a tiny smile on her lips, while Harry is outright beaming at Weasley and I.</p><p>The Gryffindor with the bushy hair turns to me.</p><p>“We're having a celebration for Ron at the Burrow. Or, well, it begins at the Burrow. We'll later move to a pub downtown to meet our friends.“</p><p>I nod, intimidated, trying to hide behind my haughty mask.</p><p>“You should really come,“ she says, taking my hand and squeezing it. Apparently, winning trials makes people touchy.</p><p>“I...“</p><p>Helplessly, I catch Harry's gaze. His green eyes are shining, hopeful.</p><p>“I'd love to introduce you to Ron's parents.“</p><p>I bite my lip. A wizard passing us whispers: “Cunt,“ under his breath. I ignore it, open my mouth to respond, but Weasley cuts me off.</p><p>“Oi! What was that, MacMillain?“</p><p>The wizard turns around, lifts his shoulders, then hurries away.</p><p>“Never knew there were so many pillocks hiding under those fancy robes.“</p><p>I smile faintly at him.</p><p>“I could have enlightened you. Afterall, I think I used to be the king of pillocks under fancy robes.“</p><p>Weasley crooks a grin.</p><p>“Yeah, I believe you were.“</p><p>“Really? I thought Ron was the king,“ Granger says and it takes me a moment to catch her reference to my little venture into songwriting during Fifth Year.</p><p>“I'm not surprised the irony was lost on you, Granger,“ I say.</p><p>Weasley just grins.</p><p>“Did you know the Gryffindors modified your little song after the game? I felt like a fucking hero.“</p><p>“I think I've heard it a time or two.“</p><p>“I bet Ron still knows it by heart.“</p><p>Granger rolls her eyes, but her gaze at the ginger is fond. Weasley gives us something that's probably meant to be an aloof smile.</p><p>Harry turns to me.</p><p>“So, Draco? What do you say? Are you joining us tonight?“</p><p>I hesitate.</p><p>“If you guys really want me to,“ I finally allow myself to say. The last thing I want is for them to drag me along under the perogative of ther Gryffindor heroicness.</p><p>“Yes, we do,“ Harry says promptly. Granger nods.</p><p>“For sure, Ferret. We always need someone to take the piss on.“</p><p>Weasley winks at me.</p><p>“It's usually him,“ Harry provides and Weasley nudges his shoulder.</p><p>“Alright, then. But I'll have you know, I give as good as I get.“</p><p>Weasley just grins at me, while Harry slips his hand into mine.</p><p>“I count on it, Ferret.“</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Living in a state of permant nervousness doesn't go well with me. As I'm making my way up to the crooked, homely looking building that I know used to be inhabited by seven Weasley children at once, I'm shaking with nerves.</p><p>Flanked by Harry and Weasly, chitchatting about Harry's new internship, I feel a tiny bit better. But it's a drop in the ocean, really.</p><p>I know that the Weasley parents won't like me. It would be bad enough if they'd have just heard from their various children what I used to say about them in Hogwarts, but I'm also the person that almost killed two, even three children of them, if you count Bill Weasley, mutilated by the werewolf I let into the castle. I'm the son of the man Arthur Weasley hated enough to lose his cool and usually relaxed attitude over. </p><p>And as if that weren't already quite enough, I'm also the whore that bewitched and coerced their bloody Saviour, the man that I know Molly Weasley sees as her own son.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p><p>As Weasley steps on the porch to knock on the door, Harry takes my hand.</p><p>“It'll be fine,“ he says.</p><p>I just roll my eyes and take a fortifying breath.</p><p>The door is opened by the one Weasley I don't believe I've seen before. He's rather tall, if not quite as tall as his little brother, and handsome in a rugged kind of way.</p><p>“Charlie. I didn't know you were in the country,“ Weasley says, clearly surprised.</p><p>His brother, Charlie, grins.</p><p>“Couldn't miss you almost getting sacked, could I? Plus, I'm allowed a week off a year, too.“</p><p>He glances over Weasley's shoulder.</p><p>“Harry! Nice to see you, mate.“</p><p>The bulky ginger hugs my boyfriend and pats him roughly on the back.</p><p>“How's Norbert?“ Harry asks, and it's like someone stabbed a knife into my stomach.</p><p>Norbert, the dragon that almost got the Golden Trio expelled and Hagrid fired, because I ratted them out.</p><p>“Oh, he's doing great. I think he's got himself a girlfriend. Always suspected he was bent, but turns out he just likes the really dominant ladies.“</p><p>Charlie grins, then turns to Granger. I wonder if he's purposefully ignoring me.</p><p>“You look great, 'Mione.“</p><p>Granger flushes a pretty kind of red and hugs him.</p><p>Finally, Charlie turns to me. My heart is at my throat as I hold out my hand.</p><p>“Very nice to meet you, Charlie.“</p><p>The ginger nods slowly.</p><p>“Yeah.“</p><p>He shakes my hand, then eyes me critically.</p><p>“Merlin's balls, Harry. Did you confund this one?“</p><p>Harry blinks, apparently not catching the joke. Neither do I, and I brace myself for anything.</p><p>“He's far too pretty for you, mate.“</p><p>With a heavy clap on Harry's back that almost sends the brunet to the ground, Charlie heads back to the door, motioning for us to come with.</p><p>“Mom's already in a cooking frenzy. Better come and say hello before she loses her head completely.“</p><p>Harry smiles at me and we all follow him inside. The doorway is crammed with coats on a rack way too small and shoes in various sizes everywhere.</p><p>“Mom! We're home,“ Weasley shouts.</p><p>Five seconds later, Molly Weasley materializes in front of us.</p><p>“How did it go?“ she squeaks.</p><p>Only now I realize that Charlie failed to ask. Either he's very confident in his brotehr's skills or he didn't want to spoil the surprise.</p><p>“Perfunctory probation for one moth and it'll be cleared off the records,“ Weasley says proudly.</p><p>His mother smiles, her cheeks dimpling, eyes crinkling and pulls him into a hug.</p><p>“Oh, Ronnie. You did so well.“</p><p>Weasley's ears go pink, but he pats Mrs. Weasley's back in a loving manner.</p><p>“You're choking me, mom.“</p><p>Mrs. Weasley releases him and greets Harry with an overbording enthuiasm my mother could never fathom for anyone, then kisses Granger's cheek. Then turns to me.</p><p>“Draco.“</p><p>I can tell that the name doesn't roll off her tongue easily, but the fact that she uses my given name at all surprises me.</p><p>“Very nice to finally meet you.“</p><p>She doesn't hug me, but her face remains kind.</p><p>“Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Weasley,“ I say, trying my very best to match her kindness and not fall back into old patterns, putting on my Malfoy mask whenever I'm stressed.</p><p>“Call me Molly, dear.“</p><p>Her gaze flicks between me and Harry.</p><p>“I understand that you brought him as your date, Harry, love?“</p><p>Harry nods and intertwines our fingers.</p><p>“I did. Thanks for having us, Molly.“</p><p>“Oh, don't be silly.“ She raises her eyebrows at him and I catch a glimpse of the woman that put Bellatrix under the ground.</p><p>“I would have preferred though if I didn't have to read the Prophet to learn about your dating life, young man.“</p><p>Harry squirms. “I'd have preferred that, too.“</p><p>Mrs. Weasley sighs and pats his cheek.</p><p>“Say hello to everyone, dear. They haven't seen you in way too long.“</p><p>Weasley rolls his eyes at me. “She only ever says that to him, you know.“</p><p>“I've heard that, Ronald,“ Mrs. Weasley chides and Weasley just rolls his eyes, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind him.</p><p>In quick succession, I meet Bill and Fleur, who are both unnervingly friendly toward me, then Percy, who keeps switching between overboarding politeness and dark frowns and finally Ginny again. This time, she nods at me. I'd have been perfectly happy to keep our interaction to that, but apparently, Ginny has other ideas. While Weasley and Granger are sauntering back to Bill and Fleur, she looks me right in the face and says: “I'm sorry about what happened to you, Malfoy. It's fucked up how the press portrays Julien as the victim. I already talked to Luna and she's planning to try and set things right in the next edition of the Quibbler.“</p><p>I stare at her, stunned. She's the first one who mentioned my trial, the reason for it and while I'm not sure I like that she did, I am astonished by her words. </p><p>Even though I doubt that appearing in the Quibbler will save my credibility.</p><p>“Thank you,“ is all I say and Ginny just nods, then turns to Harry and starts talking about Quidditch.</p><p>The smell of food wafting through the rooms and the animated chatter around me soothes me. Not enough to open my mouth, but enough to stop shaking.</p><p>I instantly start again when the door opens and another Weasley steps into the living room. Judging by the others' looks, I'm not the only one who is surprised to see him, but I'm certainly the only one who feels like throwing up. Harry slips his arm around my waist and I, weak as I am, lean into him.</p><p>“George. I thought you said you couldn't make it,“ Bill says, approaching his brother.</p><p>George crooks a smile and shrugs. “Yeah, I thought so. But here I am.“</p><p>The eldest Weasley brothers greet him first and all the while, I wonder if I could somehow pull it off to run before George reaches me. But of course, I can't.</p><p>“Harry. Malfoy.“</p><p>He's tall, taller than even the Weasel, and his red hair is almost brushing his shoulders now. I'd say he looks calmer and a little clearer than when I've last seen him, but that's not enough to calm me. I still vividly remember him beating me up, spitting filth at me. And begging me for Dreamscales.</p><p>And cheating me.</p><p>“George. You seem better.“</p><p>Harry's voice is cool, but not hostile. For the first time, I wonder how close they've been during the last years. Harry did fix him up with drugs, afterall. They must have been tight.</p><p>“I am.“</p><p>He looks at me. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. His arms are crossed.</p><p>“I owe you an apology.“</p><p>My mouth is dry, making swallowing hard. I keep it closed. I wonder if George thinks I told Harry about the beating. He only knows about the vanished gold.</p><p>“I'm sorry for how I treated you. I was out of my mind.“</p><p>I still don't know what to say, but this time, I sense that I must say something. </p><p>“I understand,“ I say.</p><p>“I think it's obvious that I don't like you and that'll not change anytime soon, but... I shouldn't have hurt you the way I did. It was wrong.“</p><p>The red-head looks away, arms still crossed.</p><p>“Alright,“ is all I say. I don't know what else there is.</p><p>The ginger shifts his weight and I fidget, wishing he'd leave.</p><p>„I... wanted to ask you about, um, someone. A friend of yours.“</p><p>He takes a breath. I stare at him in bemusement. </p><p>As far as I know, I don't have any friends.</p><p>„About whom?“</p><p>„Aquaria.“</p><p>One word and it falls into place. The last piece. </p><p>That's how George found out about me. It was really luck. He's the john Aquaria had a crush on. The one that she actually told things.</p><p>Apparently, she told him about me. I doubt she actually used my name – I trust her – but after a while, George probably figured it out. Afterall, my hair and even just glimpses of my background are giveaways.</p><p>Or maybe he's just seen me when I slipped out of Aquaria's room, or arrived at the club.</p><p>Either way, it doesn't matter anymore. Still, I feel almost relieved to finally understand it.</p><p>My eyes pierce his.</p><p>„What about her?“</p><p>„It's her birthday, soon. I want to take her out. Properly. Do you have any idea what to get for her?“</p><p>I don't think this is actually about presents. I think this is about George proving Aquaria he's serious. If he even is.</p><p>Harry's eyes dart between us, but I don't waste time on enlightening him.</p><p>„Are you serious about her?“ I ask.</p><p>„I am.“</p><p>I hold his gaze, suddenly not scared of him anymore.</p><p>„You're not dragging her into your drug habit, are you?“</p><p>The ginger looks away. Shakes his head.</p><p>„She's one of the main reasons I want to get clean. I'm at it.“</p><p>I nod slowly.</p><p>„Alright. Then just get her anything shiny. She loves pretty things.“</p><p>Brown eyes blink at me. </p><p>„Thanks, Malfoy.“</p><p>George glances at Harry, then turns around to mingle with his siblings.</p><p>Harry looks at me, slight frown on his forehead.</p><p>„<em>The</em> Aquaria? The trans girl that used to work with you?“</p><p>I nod. „Yes. She's... really sweet. We helped each other out.“</p><p>Harry nods. He knows it, since he's met her at the club. </p><p>“Is there something you haven't told me about George? Something more than the gold?“</p><p>I shrug.</p><p>“It's in the past.“</p><p>Harry won't stop staring at me.</p><p>“You really don't need to know.“</p><p>“I'd like to decide that for myself.“</p><p>I sigh, knowing he won't let it go and maybe imagine something even worse if I don't tell him.</p><p>“He came to the club twice. The first time he did, he wasn't there for Dreamscales. Not initially.“</p><p>Harry's face contorts, horror written over his features. His mouth opens.</p><p>“No, it wasn't like that. He didn't fuck me,“ I say, keeping my voice low, throwing glances around. I hope everyone is wrapped up in their own conversations.</p><p>“What did he do, then?“</p><p>I look at the floor, the red carpet, thin from so many feet stomping over it.</p><p>“He beat me up.“</p><p>Harry's jaw clenches. I sigh and try to caress the tension away.</p><p>“He was in pain and out of his mind, like he said. I don't blame him for thinking me a suitable outlet for his anger. I did cause his family quite a lot of agony over the years.“</p><p>“It still wasn't right.“ The green stare turns razor sharp, zooming in on me.</p><p>“Did your clients sometimes do that? Beat you up, just like that?“</p><p>Why does he have to drag up my sordid past here, of all places? Right now?</p><p>“You know they did. You've seen the bruises.“</p><p>Harry swallows and thinks that through.</p><p>“I mean... I guess I always assumed they weren't that intentional.“</p><p>I snort.</p><p>“It hardly makes a difference. Some were intentional, others weren't. Can we stop talking about this now, please?“</p><p>Harry nods, kissing my temple. “Sure. I'm sorry.“</p><p>But he looks at George across the room and his gaze is dark. It's not the same one with which he regards Julien, but it's not that far off, either.</p><p>“Harry. I don't want you to go after George for this.“</p><p>“He hurt you. Multiple times.“</p><p>“He's a junkie. Junkies hurt even the people they love and I'm certainly not one of those people.“</p><p>Harry sighs deeply. He knows that, maybe even better than I do. “You're right. I just... really hate to see you scared.“</p><p>I kiss his cheek.</p><p>“And that is very sweet of you.“</p><p>“Aren't you guys adorable,“ Charlie says, strolling over with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand, grinning.</p><p>“You're starting early,“ Harry says, and Charlie lifts his glass in a salute.</p><p>“Always.“</p><p>“Dinner's ready,“ Mrs. Weasley shouts and I follow the mob as everyone gathers around a scratched, wooden table, creaking under the load of food crammed upon it.</p><p> </p><p>I manage to keep my head down during dinner, safely tugged between Harry and Granger, listening to the conversation around me and only participating when directly addressed. Mr. Weasley joins the festivities late and I think he's quite relieved for not having to greet me. While most of the Weasleys are surprisingly civil, Bill and Charlie even friendly, Mr.Weasley and George ignore me pretty much. Which is very, very fine with me.</p><p>Dinner lasts until way in the night, plates of roasted potatoes, casseroles and greasy pies replaced with cake and ice cream.</p><p>I feel like I'm about to burst, but when Mrs. Weasley personally fills my plate with a slice of treacle tart, I force myself to eat up.</p><p>As the conversations grow louder and trousers are loosened to make room for impressive food babies, Weasley and Harry share a look. In an unspoken, they get up and started on their goodbyes to everyone. I rush through mine, nevertheless taking the time to thank Mrs. Weasley properly. She's the head of this household and in the end, it will always depend on her whether I am welcome here or not.</p><p>“Take care of yourself, dear,“ she says and squeezes one of my hand in both of hers, twinkle in her eyes.</p><p>“I will. Thank you again for the lovely dinner.“</p><p>“My pleasure.“</p><p>Granger, Weasley, Ginny, Harry and I head to the apparition point, the others talking animatedly about the drinks they'll have and the possibility of going dancing later that night, when most of the food has been digested. Harry holds my hand, but doesn't force me to join their chatter, which I am grateful for.</p><p>We apparate to the same pub the lot of them seem to always hit up and I allow myself to cling to Harry. There are so many people and only the dim lighting and amount of booze poured keeps me more or less incognito, even though I do see one couple staring at me, their jaws pretty much on the floor.</p><p>To my horror, more old schoolmates than usually seem to be in attendance tonight. There are some faces I only vaguely recognize, probably Ravenclaws or Hufflpuffs.</p><p>I'm the only Slytherin.</p><p>Harry throws me one look, saying: <em>Are you alright</em>? and I nod because there is nothing else I could do. The loud music drowns out everything that is said by anyone not in a five feet radius around me.</p><p>Paranoid as I am, I could swear they're all talking about me. A boy with curly hair and eyeshadow that glitters in the light is flirting with Thomas, which has Finnigan basically spitting fire. I'm grateful, because it distracts the others from my presence. </p><p>Luna tries to strike up a conversation with me, but Harry and Ginny are sitting between us and I really don't want to shout, so we give it up rather quickly.</p><p>A sudden outburst from Finnigan suddenly shuts up all the other voices blabbing around me, making me dizzy.</p><p>“If you're looking for someone to suck your cock, Terry, try Malfoy, alright? But stop harrassing my boyfriend.“</p><p>Everyone is staring at me now and my stomach turns. It keeps turning until it's all over the place and I feel sick to my bones. One girl I'm almost sure used to eat at Weasley's face in Hogwarts chuckles. It's more nervous than anything else, but it chills me nonetheless.</p><p>“No one is harrassing <em>my</em> boyfriend, either,“ Harry says, in a dangerously low tone, somehow still making himself heard.</p><p>“Your rent boy, you mean,“ Finnigan says. He's not able to meet Harry's eyes, but he says it anyway.</p><p>Harry jumps to his feet, Weasley growls and Ginny says: “That's enough, Seamus.“</p><p>“I'll go find the loo,“ I murmur, then jump up and flee the table. I think Harry wants to come after me, but then Finnigan says something that I fortunately can't hear and I leave them behind.</p><p>On my way to the loo, I bump into someone who was just about to climb on one of the high bar stools.</p><p>“Pardon me,“ I mutter, keeping my head down and praying that, whoever it might be, doesn't recognize me.</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>I'm not sure if it's the name or the voice that has my head shoot up. </p><p>I'm staring into the pale face of a young witch with a dark bob and even darker eyes, framed by blackened lashes. My jaw drops.</p><p>“Pansy?“</p><p>She blinks, apparently not quite believing it's actually me. I flush a bright red, but can't stop staring at her.</p><p>My best friend for years and only girlfriend I ever had is standing right in front of me. Unlike me, time has done her well. She looks pretty in a short skirt and high heels, casual blouse tucked into her waistband, golden bracelets shimmering on her elegant wrists.</p><p>The last time I saw her was right after the Battle of Hogwarts. She was standing in the Great Hall, slowly turning on her heels, taking in all the destruction around her. Our gazes met across the room, but none of us approached the other. I think we both knew that there was nothing to say. Too many bridges had been burned.</p><p>“What are you doing here?“ she asks.</p><p>“Having a drink.“</p><p>“With a bunch of Gryffindors?“</p><p>She nods over at the loud, rowdy table.</p><p>“You say it like it's a bad thing.“</p><p>She lifts one perfectly drawn eyebrow. We used to practice that together, being each other's mirror.</p><p>“It's not. I was simply surprised.“</p><p>“You must have read all about me in the Prophet.“</p><p>Pansy tilts her head and crosses her arms.</p><p>“I've read a lot about you, but I've long stopped believing rumors. So the part of you dating the Saviour is true?“</p><p>I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. I wonder if they're still fighting about me.</p><p>“Surprisingly enough, yes.“</p><p>She doesn't ask me about the rest. I resist the urge to touch my own face. Does she see the whore in me? Is it obvious, by the way I look or move? </p><p>“Congratulations.“</p><p>I can't tell if she's being serious.</p><p>“Well, what have you been up to? It's been a while.“</p><p>A man passes us, throwing me a dirty glance. </p><p>“Let's sit,“ Pansy says and we climb on two high stools. A deep blue drink in a delicate glass is standing in front of her. She takes a sip, then passes it on to me. “I moved with my family to France, for a year. Kept my head down and mostly dreamed of better days.“</p><p>I sip from her drink, which tastes faintly like almonds and a lot like vodka.</p><p>“I've written you a couple of letters,“ she says, looking at her black fingernails.</p><p>“I haven't recieved any.“</p><p>She quirks a smile.</p><p>“Unsurprising, since I've never sent one.“</p><p>Her dark gaze meets mine again. It's unsettling, how it makes me feel like I'm eleven again, like nothing had changed at all, and at the same time like we're both completely different people.</p><p>I believe the latter to be true.</p><p>“I thought about you a lot,“ she says. “What you were doing. I know they didn't put you in Azkaban, but your father were. I heard rumors Narcissa fell ill. But for a long time, I didn't hear anything about you.“</p><p>The waiter, an attractive bloke with cropped hair and tattoos on his arms, throws me a look and I lean in.</p><p>“I'm having what she's having,“ I say and to my relief, the man merely nods, giving no indication whether he knows who he's talking to or not.</p><p>I look back at Pansy, who's now propped one elbow up on the bar. Our knees are almost touching.</p><p>“You didn't hear about me because I was hiding,“ I say.</p><p>“In a whorehouse?“</p><p>Her tone is matter-of-factly. The Pansy I knew would have judged everyone else for such a choice in profession, but probably would've found an excuse why it were different in my case.</p><p>“Yes,“ I say.</p><p>She lifts her glass elegantly and drinks.</p><p>“I doubt it was the job you aspired for yourself, but I'm sure you made a lot of money.“</p><p>A smile ghosts around my lips.</p><p>“For my pimp, yes. Not so much for myself.“</p><p>“I see.“</p><p>My drink arrives and I take a swig.</p><p>“I've heard about the trial.“</p><p>“Everyone has.“</p><p>She traces the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger.</p><p>“I'm sorry for what happened. Would you have had a wand, Julien would never have touched you ever again.“</p><p>“I'd like to think so. But he seems to be quite a capable wizard.“</p><p>“So are you.“</p><p>I swallow and lift my glass again, trying to chase the bitterness in my mouth away.</p><p>“Was. I'm not fit to carry a wand any longer.“</p><p>Pansy frowns lightly.</p><p>“That doesn't feel fair to me.“</p><p>“I think it is. I never used mine for the right reasons.“</p><p>She drains her glass.</p><p>“You must miss it terribly.“</p><p>“I do. But I'll get it back soon. I'm only waiting for a letter,“ I admit.</p><p>It feels surreal, sitting here with her, talking about the mess my life has become. Almost like it used to be.</p><p>“So, what about you? What are you doing now?“ She reaches for my drink.</p><p>“I'm currently waiting tables, but I hope to soon be able to start my own fashion line.“</p><p>Somehow, I'm not surprised. How could I be, after spending many hours in her room or in the Slytherin Common Room, sketching models with strange outfits and calling it art?</p><p>“It will sure be unique,“ I say.</p><p>Pansy smiles and something inside of me clenches. I've seen a lot of those smiles over the years.</p><p>“You can bet your arse that it will.“</p><p>“Draco?“</p><p>I turn around. Harry lightly rests a hand on my shoulder, glancing at Pansy curiously.</p><p>“Parkinson.“ His tone is neutral, even though his face lacks its usual openness.</p><p>“Potter.“ Harry's eyes find mine.</p><p>“I wanted to ask if you'd be ready to go?“</p><p>I blink at him, casting a glance at the busy Gryffindor table.</p><p>“Already?“</p><p>“Yeah, I... kinda really don't want to be here anymore.“</p><p>I nod and get up. Turn to Pansy, who is regarding me with something akin to sadness.</p><p>“Well, it was... nice running into you.“</p><p>“It was.“</p><p>An awkward silent stretches between us.</p><p>“Have a good night, then,“ I finally say, itching to get out of this overcrowded pub.</p><p>I've made three steps, when Pansy calls after me.</p><p>“Draco!“</p><p>I turn around, wishing she wouldn't shout my name so loud in here, but also strangely glad she stopped me. I arch one brow at her.</p><p>“Owl me, you prick.“</p><p>A tentative smile tugs on my lips.</p><p>“You could just owl me. Don't you owe me some letters?“</p><p>Pansy flips me off, but she's smiling.</p><p> </p><p>The flat is quiet when Harry and I arrive, carelessly leaving our shoes in the doorway.</p><p>“You just ran into her by accident?“ Harry asks me.</p><p>“Yes. We haven't seen each other since the war.“</p><p>He pours us two glasses of water.</p><p>“You always seemed rather close in Hogwarts.“</p><p>“Hm. She was my best friend.“</p><p>I step closer and plug the glasses from Harry's hands, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. My intentions clear as day, we stumble to the bedroom together, throwing the door shut while moaning into each other's mouths, eager hands pulling on shirts and trousers.</p><p>Stripped naked, we tumble on the bed in a mess of limbs and hungry mouths. I roll my hips against Harry's, making him groan, then I roll us over until I'm on top, straddling his lap.</p><p>“Take me for a ride?“ I murmur, fingers tracing his jaw.</p><p>“Fuck, yeah.“</p><p>We're both impatient with the preparation today. I demand more even though it still burns and push Harry's hands away when I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'll explode if he doesn't fuck me right now.</p><p>I rise to my knees and slowly sink down on his cock. As always, it hurts, but with the pain comes pleasure that has my eyes rolling back, my belly flexing. My cock is smearing precome all over Harry's stomach and one of the Gryffindor's large hands is gripping my hip tightly.</p><p>I moan, rocking my hips experimentally, making Harry moan and pull me closer. His head falls back against the headboard, his green eyes on me. I smirk at him, then start moving in earnest.</p><p>One hand braced on the headboard, the other on Harry's neck, thumb pressing against his jaw, I drink up his moans, riding him like the expert I am, with all the enthusiasm that I could never muster before.</p><p>“<em>Draco</em>,“ he moans and comes inside me. I slow my movements but don't stop until he's fully spent, nuzzling my neck. Still inside my, he messily flips us, pushes me on my back. As he settles between my knees more comfortably, he slides out of me. </p><p>“So fucking perfect,“ he murmurs against my throat and I moan as he pushes two fingers into my puffy, wet hole.</p><p>I come in record time, screaming his name when I do because I can. Because I want to.</p><p>Breathing heavily, we lie next to each other, fingers locked, staring at the ceiling.</p><p>“We have to do this more often, Kitten.“</p><p>I roll my eyes, but my grin doesn't grow smaller.</p><p>“I thought you'd like this.“</p><p>“Of course I do. I like everything that involves you and me naked in a bed together.“</p><p>I turn my head to look at him and arch a brow.</p><p>“Only in bed? What a bore you are, Potter.“</p><p>He grins at me, then lightly bites my lip.</p><p>“I'll bend you over any piece of furniture you like, Kitten.“</p><p>My own grin turns predatory.</p><p>“Maybe I want to bend <em>you</em> over any piece of furniture I like.“</p><p>“Yes, please.“</p><p>He kisses me and for a few long moments, we're lost in our lips moving together, in no hurry at all. When I draw back, my face has grown serious. I trace the shape of his mouth with my finger.</p><p>“I love you, Harry Potter. And not just because you gave me my life back. Just because I can't help it. Never could.“</p><p>My gaze meets vibrant green eyes. I think they might be shining with tears. </p><p>“Neither can I, Draco.“</p><p> </p><p>When I wake up the next day, I feel pleasantly sore and completely relaxed. A surge of happiness washes over me. I can't remember the last time I woke up and simply felt happy, but I do. Harry is snoring lightly next to me. I bet Weasley will be passed out in his bed, after returning at four in the morning, clearly drunk.</p><p>I know because it was shortly after Harry's and my forth round of shagging, this time the exchange of sloppy, but utterly devoted blowjobs.</p><p>Stretching my back and cracking some joints, I blink into the sunlight shining through the window. Harry sighs in his sleep and nuzzles against my neck, making me smile and close my eyes.</p><p>An impatient <em>tap tap</em> has me opening them again. The silhouette of an owl, back against the sunshine, is waiting at the window for me.</p><p>I slide out of Harry's arms and walk over, opening the window. The elegant brown owl coos at me, ruffling its feathers. Definitely impatient, that one. I take the letter from its feet and the owl soars into the room. So it's apparently waiting for an answer.</p><p>My heart is pounding, but not in fear or anxiety, as I look at the elegant scrawl on the letter. My name, nothing else. I open it, sitting down on the bed again, because Harry is reaching for me, still half asleep.</p><p>I open the letter and read it. When I'm done, I set it down. Smiling.</p><p>“Who's the letter from?“ Harry's voice is rough from sleep and his arm is sneaking around my naked waist. He presses a kiss to my shoulder. Then yawns into my ear. I carefully set the letter down on my nightstand and lean my cheek against Harry's head.</p><p>“It's from Pansy.“</p><p>“Oh. That's nice. Does she want anything?“</p><p>My smile widens.</p><p>“No. Or, well. She'd like to meet up with me.“</p><p>“Sounds good.“</p><p>Harry pulls me back into bed and snuggles against my chest. I card my fingers through his soft hair, staring at the ceiling, lips upturned.</p><p>“Yes, it does.“</p><p>The Gryffindor pushes himself up on his hands, bending down to kiss me, one knee on either side of my hips.</p><p>„Not tired anymore?“ I ask, running my hands over his thighs.</p><p>Green eyes twinkle with mischief.</p><p>„Not really, no.“</p><p>He settles on my lap and at the press of his naked skin, my cock is quickly rising.</p><p>„My turn for a ride now?“ he asks, his hands running over my chest, pinching my nipples.</p><p>„It would be rude to deny you,“ I murmur and Harry grins before kissing me again.</p><p>I'm grabbing his arse, pulling him into me and he moans, a long, devastated sound. A sound interrupted by another tap against the window, even more impatient than the first one.</p><p>Harry groans.</p><p>„This is not the bloody owlery.“</p><p>Nonetheless, he slides off me and walks to the window, opening it again for the second owl this morning. After a glance at the letter, he turns to me.</p><p>„It's for you.“</p><p>My heart starts pumping. I don't dare hope this is what I want it to be. With lightly shaking fingers, I take the letter and open it.</p><p>„Draco?“</p><p>One tear falls onto the parchment. Another one.</p><p>„Draco.“</p><p>I look up at Harry and I can tell he's startled by my blissful smile.</p><p>„I'm allowed to do magic again, Harry.“</p><p>Harry's grin almost matches my own and he pulls me up, into his arms. Lifts me and clumsily spins me around. I laugh, a loud, free sound. </p><p>„That's amazing, love.“</p><p>He kisses me and I kiss him back, still smiling like I've gone mad. When I feel Harry's erection pressing rather insistantly pressing against my groin, demanding attention, I pull away with another quick brush of lips.</p><p>„I promise I'll shag you anywhere and any way you like, but could we maybe first...?“</p><p>I bite my lip, gazing into his eyes hopefully. Harry's own eyes crinkle a little and he kisses me once more, very briefly, before turning around and opening his nightstand.</p><p>For a moment, I think he's getting lube, and I push down the hint of disappointment at having to wait a little longer for my wand.</p><p>When he turns back to me with a long, black wand, thin and smooth, the air is knocked out of my lungs.</p><p>„You... you've had it here, all this time?“</p><p>Harry nods.</p><p>„Yeah. I thought you wouldn't want to waste any time as soon as you were cleared.“</p><p>He holds it out for me.</p><p>„All yours, Draco.“</p><p>I take the wand, <em>my</em> wand, in my hand. Running my fingers over the smooth wood. It's almost as if I can feel its core vibrating. </p><p>„It remembers me,“ I say, tears rolling down my cheeks.</p><p>„Of course it does. It belongs to you.“</p><p>I raise it, flicking it through the air. I was afraid I had forgotten how to cast, but I haven't.</p><p>Green sparks are shooting out of the tip and a surge of power rushes through me. Green eyes lock with mine. My whole body is brimming with magic.</p><p>I'm finally back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We've reached the end!<br/>A HUGE Thank You to everyone who has commented and left kudos. I hope you're satisfied with the ending! Love you guys &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and Comments are the best! I'd love to hear your thoughts.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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